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THE JOLLY BOOK 

For Boys and Girls 




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THE LADY SCHEHERAZADE RESUMES HER STORY 







The Jolly Book 

For Boys and Girls 

Selected, Edited, and Arranged 
By Frances Jenkins Olcott 
and Amena Pendleton 


With Illustrations 



Boston and New York 
Houghton Mifflin Company 
(Cbe CambriDoe 

1915 


COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY FRANCKS JENKINS OLCOTT 
AND AMENA PENDLETON 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published December iqij 




OEC 13 1915 


©CU4I6834 


PREFACE 


This is not a collection of humour that every 
child should read whether he laugh or no; it is in- 
stead a volume of stories selected for their appeal 
to all kinds of youthful humorous tastes. Each 
selection is a complete story in itself, and contains 
something of lively interest to boys and girls. 

The original stories are here; but uninteresting 
portions — from the boy-and-girl standpoint — 
are omitted, and some of the material is adapted 
to its present use. Also parts of stories scattered 
through chapters of the original books are here 
assembled and formed into delightful wholes. 

Wit, wisdom, and waggishness, grotesque de- 
scriptions, extravagances, exaggerations, related 
with that solemnity so delightful to most chil- 
dren, are all here. 

Stories like Gulliver* s Travels are left out be- 
cause they appeal to children as wonder-stories, 
not humour; and a few important selections are 
omitted as it is not possible to get the necessary 
permissions for their use. Grown people may miss 
some of their favourite selections, but these are 
absent because they either do not interest chil- 
dren, or are too long for inclusion, or do not form 
complete stories. 


VI 


PREFACE 


A wide range of authors is drawn on. Among 
the authors are Shakespeare, Cervantes, Le Sage, 
Daudet, Goldsmith, Lover, Dr. Maginn, Dr. 
Warren, Macaulay, Thackeray, Dickens, Lewis 
Carroll; also our American authors, Irving, Poe, 
Holmes, Warner, Aldrich, and others. English, 
Irish, Norse, Arabian, and American-Negro folk- 
tales contribute also to these pages. 

It is hoped that the reading-appetite of the boys 
and girls enjoying these stories may be so stimu- 
lated that the young folk will ask for more, and be 
led to read the books from which the stories are 
taken. 


The Editors. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 


The editors’ thanks are due to the following 
publishers who have permitted the publication 
of their stories in this volume : — 

To Doubleday, Page & Company for permis- 
sion to use “Conal and Donal and Taig” and 
“ Jack and the King who was a Gentleman,” 
by Seumas MacManus. 

To G. P. Putnam’s Sons, for permission to use 
“Taper Tom,” by P. C. Absjbrnsen, and “Master 
of All Masters,” by Joseph Jacobs. 

To Houghton Mifflin Company, for permission 
to use selections from the following: The Story of 
a Bad Boy, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich; The Peter- 
kin Papers, by Lucretia P. Hale; The Children's 
Book, by Horace E. Scudder; In the Wilderness, 
by Charles Dudley Warner; Nights With Uncle 
Remus, by Joel Chandler Harris; and Hans An- 
dersen’s Wonder Stories told for Children and 
Stories and Tales, 












CONTENTS 


A Warning to All Merry Readers 
The Height of the Ridiculous Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Stories of Wit, Wisdom, and Waggishness 

Conal and Donal and Taig . . . Irish Folk-Tale 

The Squire’s Bride Norse Folk-Tale 

Gudbrand on the Hillside , . . . Norse Folk-Tale 

Master of All Masters English Folk-Tale 

Jack and the King who was a Gentleman. Irish Folk-Tale 
Limestone Broth .... Old Fable : Gerald Griffin 

The Best of the Bargain James Morier 

The Soul of the Licentiate . . Alain Reni Le Sage 
Table Diplomacy . . . William Makepeace Thackeray 
Peas with a Knife . . William Makepeace Thackeray 

Mr. Pickwick collects Scientific Information 

Charles Dickens 

Tittlebat Titmouse dyes his Hair. Dr. Samuel Warren 
Abul-Hassan the Wag; or. The Sleeper Awakened 

Arabian Nights* Entertainments 
Story of the Hunchback. Arabian Nights* Entertainments 
Story told by the Tailor — The Young Man and the 
Barber 

Story told by the Barber — The Beheaded Ten 
Story told by the Barber — The Tray of Glass 
Story told by the Barber — The Barmecide Feast 
Continuation of the Story told by the Tailor — The 
Young Man and the Barber 
Conclusion of the Story of the Hunchback 

The Foolish Constable : An Interlude 

William Shakespeare 
Malvolio : An Interlude . . . William Shakespeare 


XV 

3 

11 

16 

22 

23 

34 

37 

41 

42 

44 

48 

53 

69 

84 

121 

133 


X 


CONTENTS 


Adventuees of Boys Brilliant 
AND Bold 


Tom Bailey’s Fight .... Thomas Bailey Aldrich 
Tom Bailey becomes a Member of the Centipedes 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich 
Why the Peterkins had a Late Dinner. Liicretia P. Hale 
The Peterkins celebrate the Fourth of July 

Lucretia P. Hale 

Handy Andy goes for the Horse . . Samvel Lover 

Handy Andy waits on the Squire . . Samvel Lover 
Handy Andy goes for the Mail . . Samvel Lover 
Selling the Horses Oliver Goldsmith 


Moses’ Bargain 
My Bargain 


157 

162 

166 

170 

183 

188 

192 

198 


Tales of Beasts and Birds Bad 
AND Blithe 

How Brother Rabbit frightened his Neighbours 

Joel Chandler Harris 213 
Brother Rabbit’s Astonishing Prank 

Joel Chandler Harris 217 

A Mad Tea-Party Lewis Carroll 222 

The Mock Turtle’s Story Lewis Carroll 233 

The Nightingale and the Pearl . Gesta Romanorum 246 
The Foolish Brahmin. Thomas Babington Macaulay 248 
The Language of Birds .... Alain Reni Le Sage 250 
The Actor and the Pig .... Alain RenS Le Sage 252 

The Pope’s Mule Alphonse Davdet 254 

Ye Marvellous Legend of Tom Connor’s Cat 

Samvel Lover 262 

A Dissertation upon Roast Pig . . . Charles Lamb 272 
How I killed a Bear .... Charles Dudley Warner 278 


CONTENTS 

Histories of Princes and Princesses 
Proud and Prudent 

The Real Princess . . . Hans Christian Andersen 

Taper Tom Ncrrse Folk-Tale 

The Princess whom Nobody could Silence 

Norse Folk-Tale 

The Haughty Princess Irish Folk-Tale 

The Swineherd .... Hans Christian Andersen 

Terrible True Travellers’ Tales 

Baron Munchausen goes A-Hunting 

Rudolf Erich Raspe 

The Astounding Voyage of Daniel O’Rourke 

Attributed to Dr. William Maginn 
The Thousand-and-Second Tale of Scheherazade 

Edgar Allan Poe 

The Noble Savage Charles Dickens 

The Valorous Adventures of Some Dutch Settlers 

Washington Irving 

They settle the New World 
Fur-Trading 
A Great Deal of Smoke 
Hell-Gate 

The Sage Oloffe dreamed a Dream 

Surprising Adventures of Don Quixote of La Mancha 
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra 
The Dreadful and Never-Imagined Adventure of the 
Windmills 

How Don Quixote fought with Two Armies of Sheep 
Of the High Adventure and Rich Winning of the Hel- 
met of Mambrino 
The Adventure of the Lions 


xi 

293 

294 

303 

308 

313 

325 

329 

339 

353 

360 

375 






ILLUSTRATIONS 


The Lady Scheherazade resumes her Story 

Frontispiece 

Out came the King 26 

Instantly Fire seemed to enter my Heart . 94'^ 
Olivia and Maria in Olivia’s Garden . . 144 ^ 

The Princess who never Laughed . . . 294 

Don Quixote in his Library at La Mancha * 376 



a ^atning 
to 

all jttertt IReaDer^ 


THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS 

I lorote some lines once on a time 
In wondrous merry moody 
And thought, as usual, men would say 
They were exceeding good. 

They were so queer, so very queer, 

I laughed as I would die; 

Albeit, in the general way, 

A sober man am I. 

1 called my servant, and he came; 

How hind it was of him 
To mind a slender man like me. 

He of the mighty limbi 

“ These to the 'printer 1 exclaimed. 

And, in my humorous way, 

I added, (as a trifling jest,) 

“ Therein be the devil to pay,""* 


XVI 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


He took the paper , and I watched^ 

And saw him peep within; 

At the first line he ready his J ewe 
Was all upon the grin. 

He read the next; the grin grew broody 
And shot from ear to ear; 

He read the third; a chuckling noise 
I now began to hear. 

The fourth; he broke into a roar; 

The fifth; his waistband split; 

The sixth; he burst five buttons offy 
And tumbled in a fit. 

Ten days and nights y with sleepless eyey 
I watched that wretched many 

And since y I never dare to write 
As funny as 1 can. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 


The Jolly Book 
For Boys and Girls 


STORIES OF WIT, WISDOM, AND 
WAGGISHNESS 






/ 


V 




I I 




I 


i 




IT 


( 




The Jolly Book 
For Boys and Girls 


CONAL AND DONAL AND TAIG 

IRISH FOLK-TALE 

Once there were three brothers named Conal, 
Donal, and Taig, and they fell out regarding 
which of them owned a field of land. One of them 
had as good a claim to it as the other, and the 
claims of all of them were so equal that none of 
the judges, whomsoever they went before, could 
decide in favour of one more than the other. 

At length they went to one judge who was very 
wise indeed and had a great name, and every one 
of them stated his case to him. 

He sat on the bench, and heard ConaTs case 
and DonaTs case and Taig’s case all through, 
with very great patience. When the three of them 
had finished, he said he would take a day and a 
night to think it all over; and on the day after, 
when they were all called into court again, the 
Judge said that he had weighed the evidence on 
all sides, with all the deliberation it was possible 
to give it, and he had decided that one of them 


4 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


had n’t the shadow of a shade of a claim more than 
the others, so that he found himself facing the 
greatest puzzle he had ever faced in his life. 

“But,” says he, “no puzzle puzzles me long. 
I’ll very soon decide which of you will get the 
field. You seem to me to be three pretty lazy- 
looking fellows, and I ’ll give the field to whichever 
of the three of you is the laziest.” 

“Well, at that rate,” says Conal, “it’s me gets 
the field, for I’m the laziest man of the lot.” 

“How lazy are you?” says the Judge. 

“Well,” says Conal, “if I was lying in the mid- 
dle of the road, and there was a regiment of troop- 
ers come galloping down it, I’d sooner let them 
ride over me than take the bother of getting up 
and going to the one side.” 

“Well, well,” says the Judge, says he, “you are 
a lazy man surely, and I doubt if Donal or Taig 
can be as lazy as that.” 

“Oh, faith,” says Donal, “I’m just every bit 
as lazy.” 

“Are you?” says the Judge. “How lazy are 
you?” 

“Well,” says Donal, “if I was sitting right close 
to a big fire, and you piled on it all the turf in a 
townland and all the wood in a barony, sooner 
than have to move I’d sit there till the boiling 
marrow would run out of my bones.” 

“Well,” says the Judge, “you’re a pretty lazy 


CONAL AND DONAL AND TAIG 5 


man, Donal, and I doubt if Taig is as lazy as 
either of you.” 

“Indeed, then,” says Taig, “I’m every bit as 
lazy.” 

“How can that be?” says the Judge. 

“Well,” says Taig, “if I was lying on the broad 
of my back in the middle of the floor and looking 
up at the rafters, and if soot drops were falling as 
thick as hailstones from the rafters into my open 
eyes, I would let them drop there for the length 
of the lee-long day sooner than take the bother 
of closing the eyes.” 

“Well,” says the Judge, “that’s very wonder- 
ful entirely, and,” says he,“ I ’m in as great a quan- 
dary as before, for I see you are the three laziest 
men that ever were known since the world began, 
and which of you is the laziest it certainly beats 
me to say. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” says 
the Judge, “I’ll give the field to the oldest man 
of you.” 

“Then,” says Conal, “it’s me gets the field.” 

“How is that?” says the Judge; “how old are 
you?” 

“Well, I’m that old,” says Conal, “that when 
I was twenty-one years of age I got a shipload of 
awls and never lost nor broke one of them, and I 
wore out the last of them yesterday mending my 
shoes.” 

“Well, well,” says the Judge, says he, “you’re 


6 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


surely an old man, and I doubt very much that 
Donal and Taig can catch up to you.” 

“Can’t I?” says Donal; “take care of that.” 

“Why,” says the Judge, “how old are you?” 

“When I was twenty-one years of age,” says 
Donal, “I got a shipload of needles, and yesterday 
I wore out the last of them mending my clothes.” 

“Well, well, well,” says the Judge, says he, 
“you’re two very, very old men, to be sure, and 
I ’m afraid poor Taig is out of his chance anyhow.” 

“Take care of that,” says Taig. 

“Why,” says the Judge, “how old are you, 
Taig?” 

Says Taig, “When I was twenty-one years of 
age I got a shipload of razors, and yesterday I had 
the last of them worn to a stump shaving myself.” 

“Well,” says the Judge, says he, “I’ve often 
heard tell of old men,” he says, “but anything as 
old as what you three are never was known since 
Methusalem’s cat died. The like of your ages,” 
he says, “I never heard tell of, and which of you 
is the oldest, that surely beats me to decide, and 
I ’m in a quandary again. But I ’ll tell you what 
I’ll do,” says the Judge, says he, “I’ll give the 
field to whichever of you minds [remembers] the 
longest.” 

“ Well, if that ’s it,” saysConal, “ it ’s me gets the 
field, for I mind the time when if a man tramped 
on a cat he use n’t to give it a kick to console it.” 


CONAL AND DONAL AND TAIG 7 


“Well, well, well,” says the Judge, “that must 
be a long mind entirely; and I’m afraid, Conal, 
you have the field.” 

“Not so quick,” says Donal, says he, “fori 
mind the time when a woman would n’t speak an 
ill word of her best friend.” 

“Well, well, well,” says the Judge, “your mem- 
ory, Donal, must certainly be a very wonderful 
one, if you can mind that time. Taig,” says the 
Judge, says he, “I’m afraid your memory can’t 
compare with Conal’s and Donal’s.” 

“Can’t it,” says Taig, says he. “Take care 
of that, for I mind the time when you would n’t 
find nine liars in a crowd of ten men.” 

“Oh, oh, oh! ” says the Judge, says he, “that 
memory of yours, Taig, must be a wonderful 
one.” Says he: “ Such memories as you three men 
have were never known before, and which of you 
has the greatest memory it beats me to say. But 
I’ll tell you what I’ll do now,” says he; “I’ll give 
the field to whichever of you has the keenest 
sight.” 

“Then,” says Conal, says he, “it’s me gets the 
field; because,” says he, “ if there was a fly perched 
on the top of yon mountain, ten miles away, I 
could tell you every time he blinked.” 

“You have wonderful sight, Conal,” says the 
Judge, says he, “and I’m afraid you’ve got the 
field.” 


8 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Take care,” says Donal, says he, “but I’ve 
got as good. For I could tell you whether it was 
a mote in his eye that made him blink or not.” 

“Ah, ha, ha!” says the Judge, says he, “this is 
wonderful sight surely. Taig,” says he, “I pity 
you, for you have no chance for the field now.” 

“Have I not.^” says Taig. “I could tell you 
from here whether that fly was in good health or 
not by counting his heart-beats. ” 

“ Well, well, well ! ” says the Judge, says he, “ I ’m 
in as great a quandary as ever. You are three 
of the most wonderful men that ever I met, and 
no mistake. But I ’ll tell you what I ’ll do,” says 
he; “I’ll give the field to the supplest man of 
you.” 

“Thank you,” says Conal. “Then the field is 
mine.” 

“Why so.f^” says the Judge. 

“Because,” says Conal, says he, “if you filled 
that field with hares, and put a dog in the middle 
of them, and then tied one of my legs up my back, 
I would not let one of the hares get out.” 

“Then, Conal,” says the Judge, says he, “I 
think the field is yours.” 

“By the leave of your Judgeship, not yet,” 
says Donal. 

“Why, Donal,” says the Judge, says he, “surely 
you are not as supple as that?” 

“Am I not?” says Donal. “Do you see that 


CONAL AND DONAL AND TAIG 9 

old castle over there without door, or window, or 
roof in it, and the wind blowing in and out 
through it like an iron gate?” 

“I do,” says the Judge. “What about that?” 

“Well,” says Donal, says he, “if on the stormi- 
est day of the year you had that castle filled with 
feathers, I would not let a feather be lost, or go 
ten yards from the castle until I had caught and 
put it in again.” 

“Well, surely,” says the Judge, says he, “you 
are a supple man, Donal, and no mistake. Taig,” 
says he, “there’s no chance for you now.” 

“Don’t be too sure,” says Taig, says he. 

“Why,” says the Judge, “you could n’t surely 
do anything to equal these things, Taig?” 

Says Taig, says he: “I can shoe the swiftest 
race-horse in the land when he is galloping at his 
topmost speed, by driving a nail every time he 
lifts his foot.” 

“Well, well, well,” says the Judge, says he, 
“surely you are the three most wonderful men 
that ever I did meet. The likes of you never was 
known before, and I suppose the likes of you will 
never be on the earth again. There is only one 
other trial,” says he, “and if this does n’t decide. 
I’ll have to give it up. I’ll give the field,” says 
he, “to the cleverest man amongst you.” 

“Then,” says Conal, says he, “you may as well 
give it to me at once.” 


10 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Why? Are you that clever, Conal?” says the 
Judge, says he. 

“I am that clever,” says Conal, “I am that 
clever, that I would make a skin-fit suit of 
clothes for a man without any more measure- 
ment than to tell me the colour of his hair.” 

“Then, boys,” says the Judge, says he, “I think 
the case is decided.” 

“Not so quick, my friend,” says Donal, “not 
so quick.” 

“Why, Donal,” says the Judge, says he, “you 
are surely not cleverer than that?” 

“Am I not?” says Donal. 

“Why,” says the Judge, says he, “what can 
you do, Donal?” 

“Why,” says Donal, says he, “I would make 
a skin-fit suit for a man and give me no more 
measurement than let me hear him cough.” 

“Well, well, well,” says the Judge, says he, 
“the cleverness of you two boys beats all I ever 
heard of. Taig,” says he, “poor Taig, whatever 
chance either of these two may have for the field, 
I’m very, very sorry for you, for you have no 
chance.” 

“Don’t be so very sure of that,” says Taig, 
says he. 

“Why,” says the Judge, says he, “surely, 
Taig, you can’t be as clever as either of them. 
How clever are you, Taig?” 


11 


THE SQUIRE’S BRIDE 

“Well,” says Taig, says he, “if I was a Judge, 
and too stupid to decide a case that came up be- 
fore me, I ’d be that clever that I ’d look wise and 
give some decision.” 

“Taig,” says the Judge, says he, “I’ve gone 
into this case and deliberated upon it, and by all 
the laws of right and justice, I find and decide 
that you get the field.” 

Seumas MacManus, Donegal Fairy Stories.^ 


THE SQUIRE’S BRIDE 

NORSE FOLK-TALE 

Once upon a time there was a rich Squire who 
owned a large farm, and had plenty of silver at 
the bottom of his chest and money in the bank 
besides; but he felt there was something wanting, 
for he was a widower. 

One day the daughter of a neighbouring farmer 
was working for him in the hayfield. The Squire 
saw her and liked her very much, and as she was a 
child of poor parents, he thought, if he only hinted 
that he wanted her, she would be ready to marry 
him at once. 

So he told her he had been thinking of getting 
married again. 

“Aye! one may think of many things,” said the 
girl, laughing slyly. In her opinion the old fellow 

1 By permission of Doubleday, Page & Company, 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


n 

ought to be thinking of something that behooved 
him better than getting married. 

“Well, you see, I thought that you should be 
my wife!” 

“No, thank you all the same,” said she, “that’s 
not at all likely.” 

The Squire was not accustomed to be gainsaid, 
and the more she refused him the more deter- 
mined he was to get her. 

But as he made no progress in her favour, he 
sent for her father and told him that if he could 
arrange the matter with his daughter he would 
forgive him the money he had lent him, and he 
would also give him the piece of land which lay 
close to his meadow into the bargain. 

“Yes, you may be sure I’ll bring my daughter 
to her senses,” said the father. “She is only a 
child, and she does n’t know what’s best for her.” 
But all his coaxing and talking did not help mat- 
ters. She would not have the Squire, she said, if 
he sat buried in gold up to his ears. 

The Squire waited day after day, but at last he 
became so angry and impatient that he told the 
father, if he expected him to stand by his prom- 
ise, he would have to put his foot down and settle 
the matter now, for he would not wait any longer. 

The man knew no other way out of it, but to let 
the Squire get everything ready for the wedding; 
and when the parson and the wedding guests had 


13 


THE SQUmE’S BRroE 

arrived the Squire should send for the girl as if she 
were wanted for some work on the farm. When 
she arrived she would have to be married right 
away, so that she would have no time to think it 
over. 

The Squire thought this was well and good and 
so he began brewing and baking and getting ready 
for the wedding in grand style. When the guests 
had arrived the Squire called one of his farm lads 
and told him to run down to his neighbour and 
ask him to send him what he had promised. 

“But if you are not back in a twinkling,’^ he 
said shaking his fist at him, “I’ll — ” 

He did not say more, for the lad ran off as if he 
had been shot at. 

“My master has sent me to ask for what you 
promised him,” said the lad, when he got to the 
neighbour, “but there is no time to be lost, for he 
is terribly busy to-day.” 

“Yes, yes! Run down into the meadow and 
take her with you. There she goes!” answered 
the neighbour. 

The lad ran off and when he came to the mead- 
ow he found the daughter there raking the hay. 

“I am to fetch what your father has promised 
my master,” said the lad. 

“Ah, ha ! ” thought she. “Is that what they are 
up to?” 

“Ah, indeed!” she said. “I suppose it’s that 


14 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


little bay mare of ours. You had better go and 
take her. She stands there tethered on the other 
side of the peasefield/’ said the girl. 

The boy jumped on the back of the bay mare 
and rode home at full gallop. 

“Have you got her with you?” asked the 
Squire. 

“She is down at the door,” said the lad. 

“Take her up to the room my mother had,” 
said the Squire. 

“But, master, how can that be managed?” 
said the lad. 

“You must do just as I tell you,” said the 
Squire. “If you cannot manage her alone you 
must get the men to help you,” for he thought 
the girl might turn obstreperous. 

When the lad saw his master’s face he knew it 
would be no use to gainsay him. So he went and 
got all the farm-tenants, who were there, to help 
him. Some pulled at the head and the forelegs 
of the mare and others pushed from behind, and 
at last they got her up the stairs and into the 
room. There lay all the wedding finery ready. 

“Now, that’s done, master!” said the lad; “but 
it was a terrible job. It was the worst I have ever 
had here on the farm.” 

“Never mind, you shall not have done it for 
nothing,” said his master. “Now send the wo- 
men up to dress her.” 


15 


THE SQUmE’S BRIDE 

“But I say, master — ” said the lad. 

“None of your talk!” said the Squire. “Tell 
them they must dress her and mind and not for- 
get either wreath or crown.” 

The lad ran into the kitchen. 

“Look here, lasses,” he said; “you must go up- 
stairs and dress up the bay mare as bride. I ex- 
pect the master wants to give the guests a laugh.” 

The women dressed the bay mare in everything 
that was there, and then the lad went and told his 
master that now she was ready dressed, with 
wreath and crown and all. 

“Very well, bring her down!” said the Squire. 
^‘I will receive her myself at the door,” said he. 

There was a terrible clatter on the stairs; for 
that bride, you know, had no silken shoes on. 

When the door was opened and the Squire’s 
bride entered the parlour you can imagine there 
was a good deal of tittering and grinning. 

And as for the Squire you may be sure he had 
had enough of that bride, and they say he never 
went courting again. 

Peter Christen Asbjornsen, 

Fairy Tales from the Far North, 


16 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


GUDBRAND ON THE HILLSIDE 

NORSE FOLK-TALE 

There was once upon a time a man whose 
name was Gudbrand. He had a farm which lay 
far away up on the side of a hill, and therefore 
they called him Gudbrand on the Hillside. 

He and his wife lived so happily together, and 
agreed so well, that whatever the man did the 
wife thought it so well done that no one could do 
it better. No matter what he did, she thought it 
was always the right thing. 

They lived on their own farm, and had a hundred 
dollars at the bottom of their chest and two cows 
in their cowshed. One day the woman said to 
Gudbrand : — 

‘T think we ought to go to town with one of the 
cows and sell it, so that we may have some ready 
money by us. We are pretty well off, and ought 
to have a few shillings in our pocket like other 
people. The hundred dollars in the chest we 
must n’t touch, but I can’t see what we want with 
more than one cow. It will be much better for us 
to sell one as I shall then have only one to look 
after instead of the two I have now to mind and 
feed.” 

Yes, Gudbrand thought, that was well and sen- 
sibly spoken. He took the cow at once and went 


GUDBRAND ON THE HILLSIDE 17 


to town to sell it; but when he got there no one 
would buy the cow. 

“Ah, well!” thought Gudbrand, “I may as well 
take the cow home again. I know I have both stall 
and food for it, and the way home is no longer 
than it was here.” So he strolled homeward again 
with the cow. 

When he had got a bit on the way he met a man 
who had a horse to sell, and Gudbrand thought it 
was better to have a horse than a cow, and so 
he changed the cow for the horse. 

When he had gone a bit further he met a man 
who was driving a fat pig before him, and then he 
thought it would be better to have a fat pig than 
a horse, and so he changed with the man. 

He now went a bit further, and then he met a 
man with a goat, and, as he thought it was surely 
better to have a goat than a pig, he changed with 
the man who had the goat. 

Then he went a long way, till he met a man who 
had a sheep; he changed with him, for he thought 
it was always better to have a sheep than a goat. 

When he had got a bit further he met a man 
with a goose, and so he changed the sheep for the 
goose. And when he had gone a long, long way he 
met a man with a cock; he changed the goose with 
him, for he thought, “It is surely better to have a 
cock than a goose.” 

He walked on till late in the day, when he began 


18 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


to feel hungry. So he sold the cock for sixpence 
and bought some food for himself. 

“For it is always better to keep body and soul 
together than to have a cock,” thought Gud- 
brand. 

He then set off again homeward till he came to 
his neighbour’s farm and there he went in. 

“How did you get on in town?” asked the peo- 
ple. 

“Oh, only so-so,” said the man; “I can’t boast 
of my luck, nor can I grumble at it either.” And 
then he told them how it had gone with him from 
first to last. 

“Well, you’ll have a fine reception when you 
get home to your wife,” said his neighbour. 
“Heaven help you! I should not like to be in 
your place.” 

“I think I might have fared much worse,” said 
Gudbrand; “but whether I have fared well or ill, 
I have such a kind wife that she never says any- 
thing, no matter what I do.” 

“Aye, so you say; but you won’t get me to be- 
lieve it,” said the neighbour. 

“Shall we have a wager on it?” said Gudbrand. 
“I have a hundred dollars in my chest at home; 
will you lay the same?” 

So they made the wager and Gudbrand re- 
mained there till the evening, when it began to get 
dark, and then they went together to the farm. 


GUDBRAND ON THE HELLSEDE 19 


The neighbour was to remain outside the door 
and listen, while Gudbrand went in to his wife. 

“Good evening!” said Gudbrand when he came 
in. 

“Good evening!” said the wife. “Heaven be 
praised you are back again.” 

“Yes, here I am!” said the man. And then the 
wife asked him how he had got on in town. 

“Oh, so-so,” answered Gudbrand; “not much 
to brag of. When I came to town no one would 
buy the cow, so I changed it for a horse.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad of that,” said the woman; 
“we are pretty well off and we ought to drive to 
church like other people, and when we can afford 
to keep a horse I don’t see why we should not have 
one. Run out, children, and put the horse in the 
stable.” 

“Well, I have n’t got the horse after all,” said 
Gudbrand; “for when I had got a bit on the way 
I changed it for a pig.” 

“Dear me!” cried the woman, “that’s the 
very thing I should have done myself. I’m so 
glad of that, for now we can have some bacon in 
the house and something to offer people when they 
come to see us. Wliat do we want with a horse 
People would only say we had become so grand 
that we could no longer walk to church. Run out, 
children, and let the pig in.” 

“But I have n’t got the pig either,” said Gud- 


^0 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


brand, “for when I had got a bit further on the 
road I changed it for a milch goat.” 

“Dear! dear ! how well you manage everything!” 
cried the wife. “When I really come to think of 
it, what do I want with the pig.? People would 
only say, ‘over yonder they eat up everything 
they have.’ No, now I have a goat I can have 
both milk and cheese and keep the goat into the 
bargain. Let in the goat, children.” 

“But I have n’t got the goat either,” said Gud- 
brand; “when I got a bit on the way I changed 
the goat and got a fine sheep for it.” 

“Well!” shouted the woman, “you do every- 
thing just as I should wish it — just as if I had 
been there myself. What do we want with a goat? 
I should have to climb up hill and down dale to 
get it home at night. No, when I have a sheep 
I can have wool and clothes in the house, and 
food as well. Run out, children, and let in the 
sheep.” 

“But I have n’t got the sheep any longer,” 
said Gudbrand, “for when I had got a bit on the 
way I changed it for a goose.” 

“Well, thank you for that!” said the woman; 
“and many thanks too! What do I want with a 
sheep? I have neither wheel nor spindle, and I 
do not care either to toil and drudge making 
clothes; we can buy clothes now as before. Now 
I can have goose-fat, which I have so long been 


GUDBRAND ON THE HELLSmE 21 


wishing for, and some feathers to stuff that little 
pillow of mine. Run, children, and let in the 
goose.” 

“Well, I have n’t got the goose either,” said 
Gudbrand. “When I got a bit further on the 
way I changed it for a cock.” 

“Well, I don’t know how you can think of it 
all ! ” cried the woman. “ It ’s just as if I had done 
it all myself. — A cock! Why, it’s just the same 
as if you’d bought an eight-day clock, for every 
morning the cock will crow at four, so we can be 
up in good time. What do we want with a goose? 
I can’t make goose-fat and I can easily fill my pil- 
low with some soft grass. Run, children, and let 
in the cock.” 

“But I have n’t got a cock either,” said Gud- 
brand, “for when I had got a bit further I became 
so terribly hungry I had to sell the cock for six- 
pence and get some food to keep body and soul 
together.” 

“Heaven be praised you did that!” cried the 
woman. “Whatever you do, you always do the 
very thing I could have wished. Besides, what did 
we want with the cock? We are our own masters 
and can lie as long as we like in the mornings. 
Heaven be praised! As long as I have got you 
back again, who manage everything so well, I 
shall neither want cock, nor goose, nor pig, nor 


cow. 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Gudbrand then opened the door. “Have I won 
the hundred dollars now?” he asked. And the 
neighbour was obliged to confess that he had. 

Peter Christen Asbjornsen, 

Fairy Tales from the Far North. 


MASTER OF ALL MASTERS 

ENGLISH FOLK-TALE 

A GIRL once went to the fair to hire herself for 
a servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman 
engaged her, and took her home to his house. 
When she got there, he told her that he had some- 
thing to teach her, for that in his house he had his 
own names for things. 

He said to her, “What will you call me?” 

“Master, or Mister, or whatever you please, 
sir,” says she. 

He said, “You must call me ‘master of all 
masters.’ And what would you call this? ” point- 
ing to his bed. 

“Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.” 

“No, that’s my ‘barnacle.’ And what do you 
can these?” said he pointing to his pantaloons. 

“Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, 
sir.” 

“You must call them ‘squibs and crackers.’ 
And what would you call her? ” pointing to the cat. 

“Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.” 


JACK AND THE KING 


23 


“You must call her ‘white-faced simminy.’ 
And this now,” showing the fire, “ what would you 
call this?” 

“Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.” 

“You must call it ‘hot cockalorum,’ and what 
this?” he went on, pointing to the water. 

“Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.” 

“No, ‘pondalorum’ is its name. And what do 
you call all this?” asked he as he pointed to the 
house. 

“House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.” 

“You must call it ‘high topper mountain.’” 

That very night the servant woke her master 
up in a fright and said, “Master of all masters, get 
out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and 
crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a 
spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless 
you get some pondalorum high topper mountain 
will be all on hot cockalorum.” . . . That’s all. 

Joseph Jacobs, English Fairy Tales, 


JACK AND THE KING WHO WAS 
A GENTLEMAN 

IRISH FOLK-TALE 

Well, childre, wanst upon a time, when pigs 
was swine, there was a poor widdy woman lived 
all alone with her wan son Jack in a wee hut of a 
house, that on a dark night ye might aisily walk 


24 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


over it by mistake, not knowin’ at all, at all, it 
was there, barrin’ ye’d happen to strike yer toe 
again’ it. 

An’ Jack an’ his mother lived for lee an’ long, as 
happy as hard times would allow them, in this 
wee hut of a house. Jack sthrivin’ to ’arn a little 
support for them both by workin’ out, an’ doin’ 
wee turns back an’ forrid to the neighbours. 

But there was one winter, an’ times come to 
look black enough for them — nothin’ to do, an’ 
less to ate, an’ clothe themselves as best they 
might. An’ the winther wore on, gettin’ harder 
an’ harder, till at length when Jack got up out of 
his bed on a mornin’, an’ axed his mother to make 
ready the drop of stirabout for their little brakwus 
as usual. 

“Musha, Jack,” says his mother, says she, “the 
male-chist — thanks be to the Lord ! — is as 
empty as Paddy Ruadh’s donkey that used to ate 
his brakwus at supper-time. It stood out long an’ 
well, but it’s empty at last. Jack, an’ no sign of 
how we’re goin’ to get it filled again — only we 
trust in the good Lord that niver yet disarted the 
widow and the orphan — He ’ll not see us wantin’. 
Jack.” 

“The Lord helps them that help themselves, 
mother,” says Jack back again to her. 

“Thrue for ye. Jack,” says she, “but I don’t see 
how we’re goin’ to help ourselves.” 


JACK AND THE KING 


25 


“He’s a mortial dead mule out an’ out that 
has n’t a kick in him,” says Jack. “An’, mother, 
with the help of Providence — not comparin’ the 
Christian to the brute baste — I have a kick in 
me yet; if you thought ye could only manage to 
sthrive along the best way you could for a week, 
or maybe two weeks, till I get back again off a 
little journey I’d like to undhertake.” 

“An’ may I make bould to ax. Jack,” says his 
mother to him, “where would ye be afther makin’ 
the little journey to.^” 

“You may that, then, mother,” says Jack. 
“It’s this: You know the King of Munsther is a 
great jintleman entirely. It’s put on him he’s so 
jintlemanly that he was niver yet known to make 
use of a wrong or disrespectable word. An’ he 
prides himself on it so much that he has sent word 
over all the known airth that he ’ll give his beauti- 
ful daughter — the loveliest picthur in all Mun- 
sther, an’ maybe in all Irelan’, if we ’d say it — 
an’ her weight in goold, to any man that in three 
trials will make him use the unrespectful word, 
an’ say, ‘Ye’re a liar!’ 

“But every man that tries him, an’ fails, loses 
his head. All sorts and descriptions of people, 
from prences an’ peers down to bagmen an’ beg- 
gars, have come from all parts of the known world 
to thry for the great prize, an’ all of them up to 
this has failed, an’ by consequence lost their heads. 


m 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“But, mother dear,” says Jack, “where’s the 
use in a head to a man if he can’t get male for it to 
ate? So I ’m goin’ to thry me fortune, only axin’ 
your blissin’ an’ God’s blissin’ to help me on the 
way.” 

“Why, Jack,” says his mother, “it’s a danger- 
some task; but as you remark, where’s the good 
of the head to ye when ye can’t get male to put in 
it? So, I give ye my blissin’, an’ night, noon, an’ 
mornin’ I’ll be prayin’ for ye to prosper.” 

An’ Jack set out, with his heart as light as his 
stomach, an’ his pocket as light as them both to- 
gether; but a man ’ill not travel far in ould Irelan’ 
(thanks be to God!) on the bare-footed stomach 
— as we’ll call it — or it’ll be his own fault if he 
does; an’ Jack did n’t want for plenty of first- 
class aitin’ an’ dhrinkin’ lashin’s an’ laivin’s, an’ 
pressin’ him to more. 

An’ in this way he thravelled away afore him 
for five long days till he come to the King of 
Munsther’s castle. And when he was corned 
there he rattled on the gate, an’ out come the 
King. 

“ Well, me man,” says the King, “what might 
be your business here?” 

“I’m come here, your Kingship,” says Jack, 
mighty polite, an’ pullin’ his forelock, — be rai- 
son his poor ould mother had always insthructed 
him in the heighth of good breedin’ — “I’m come 



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JACK AND THE KING 27 

here, your R’yal Highness,” says Jack, “to thry 
for yer daughter.” 

“Hum!” says the King. “Me good young 
man,” says he, “don’t ye think it a poor thing to 
lose yer head?” 

“If I lose it,” says Jack, “sure one consolation 
’ill be that I ’ll lose it in a glorious cause.” 

An’ who do ye think would be listenin’ to this 
same deludherin’ speech of Jack’s, from over the 
wall, but the King’s beautiful daughter herself. 
She took an eyeful out of Jack, an’ right well 
plaised she was with his appearance, for — 

“Father,” says she at once, “has n’t the boy 
as good a right to get a chance as another? What’s 
his head to you? Let the boy in,” says she. 

An’ sure enough, without another word, the 
King took Jack within the gates, an’ handin’ him 
over to the sarvints, tould him to be well looked 
afther an’ cared for till mornin’. 

Next mornin’ the King took Jack with him an* 
fetched him out into the yard. 

“ Now then. Jack,” says he, “we’re goin’ to be- 
gin. We’ll drop into the stables here, an’ I’ll give 
you your first chance.” 

So he took Jack into the stables an’ showed him 
some wondherful big horses, the likes of which 
poor Jack never saw afore, an’ everyone of which 
was the heighth of the side wall of the castle 
an’ could step over the castle walls, which were 


28 THE JOLLY BOOK 

twenty-five feet high, without strainin’ them- 
selves. 

“Them’s purty big horses, Jack,” says the 
King. “ I don’t suppose ever ye saw as big or as 
wondherful as them in yer life.” 

“Oh, they’re purty big indeed,” says Jack, 
takin’ it as cool as if there was nothin’ whatsome- 
ever astonishin’ to him about them. “They’re 
purty big indeed,” says Jack, “/or this counthry. 
But at home with us in Donegal we’d only count 
them little nags, shootable for the young ladies 
to dhrive in pony-carriages.” 

“What!” says the King, “do ye mane to tell 
me ye have seen bigger in Donegal?” 

“Bigger!” says Jack. “Phew! Blood alive, 
yer Kingship, I seen horses in my father’s stable 
that could step over your horses without thrip- 
pin’. My father owned one big horse — the 
greatest, I believe, in the world again.” 

“WTiat was he like?” says the King. 

“Well, yer Highness,” says Jack, “it’s quite 
beyond me to tell ye what he was like. But I 
know when we wanted to mount, it could only be 
done by means of a step-laddher with nine hun- 
dred and ninety steps to it, every step a mile high, 
an’ you had to jump seven mile off the topmost 
step to get on his back. He ate nine ton of turnips, 
nine ton of oats, an’ nine ton of hay in the day, 
an’ it took ninety-nine men in the day-time, an’ 


JACK AND THE KING 


29 


ninety-nine more in the night-time, carryin’ his 
feeds to him; an’ when he wanted a drink, the 
ninety-nine men had to lead him to a lough that 
was nine mile long, nine mile broad, an’ nine mile 
deep, an’ he used to drink it dry every time,” says 
Jack, an’ then he looked at the King, expectin’ 
he’d surely have to make a liar of him for that. 

But the King only smiled at Jack, an’ says he, 
“ Jack, that was a wonderful horse entirely, an’ 
no mistake.” 

Then he took Jack with him out into the gar- 
den for his second trial, an’ showed him a bee- 
skep the size of the biggest rick of hay ever Jack 
had seen; an’ every bee in the skep was the size of 
a thrush, an’ the queeny bee as big as a jackdaw. 

“Jack,” says the King, says he, “is n’t them 
wondherful bees.^^ I’ll warrant ye, ye never saw 
anything like them. ” 

“Oh, they’re middlin’ — middlin’ fairish,” says 
Jack — “/or this counthry. But they’re nothin’ 
at all to the bees we have in Donegal. If one of 
our bees was flying across the fields,” says Jack, 
“and one of your bees happened to come in its 
way, an’ fall into our bee’s eye, our bee would fly 
to the skep, an’ ax another bee to take the mote 
out of his eye.” 

“Do you tell me so. Jack?” says the King. 
“You must have great monsthers of bees.” 

‘‘Monsthers,” says Jack. “Ah, yer Highness, 


so 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


monsthers is no name for some of them. I remim- 
ber,” says Jack, says he, “a mighty great breed 
of bees me father owned. They were that big that 
when my father’s new castle was a-buildin’ (in the 
steddin’ of the old one which he consaived to be 
too small for a man of his mains), and when the 
workmen closed in the roof, it was found there 
was a bee inside, an’ the hall door not bein’ wide 
enough, they had to toss the side wall to let it out. 

“Then the queeny bee — ah! she was a won- 
dherful baste entirely!” says Jack. “Whenever 
she went out to take the air she used to overturn 
all the ditches and hedges in the country; the wind 
of her wings tossed houses and castles; she used to 
swallow whole flower-gardens. An’ one day she 
flew against a ridge of mountains nineteen thou- 
sand feet high and knocked a piece out from top 
to bottom, an’ it’s called Barnesmore Gap to this 
day. 

“This queeny bee was a great trouble an’ an- 
noyance to my father, seein’ all the harm she done 
the naybours round about. Opce she took it in her 
head to fly over to England, an’ she created such 
mischief an’ disolation there that the King of Eng- 
lan’ wrote over to my father if he did n’t come 
immaidiately an’ take home his queeny bee, that 
was wrackin’ an’ ruinin’ all afore her, he’d come 
over himself at the head of all his army and wipe 
my father off the face of the airth. 


JACK AND . THE KING 


31 


“So my father ordhered me to mount our won- 
dherful big horse that I tould ye about, an’ that 
could go nineteen mile at every step, an’ go over 
to Englan’ an’ bring home our queeny bee. An’ I 
mounted the horse an’ started, an’ when I come as 
far as the sea I had to cross to get over to Eng- 
lan’, I put the horse’s two fore feet into my hat, an’ 
in that way he thrashed the sea dry all the way 
across an’ landed me safely. 

“When I come to the King of Englan’ he had 
to supply me with nine hundred and ninety-nine 
thousand men, an’ ninety-nine thousand mile of 
chains an’ ropes to catch the queeny bee an’ bind 
her. It took us nine years to catch her, nine more 
to tie her, an’ nine years an’ nine millions of men 
to drag her home; an’ the King of Englan’ was 
a beggar afther from that day till the day of his 
death. Now what do ye think of that bee? ” says 
Jack, thinkin’ he had the King this time sure 
enough. 

But the King was a cuter one than Jack took 
him for, an’ he only smiled again, an’ says he : — 

“Well, Jack, that was a wondherful great 
queeny bee entirely.” 

Next, for poor Jack’s third an’ last chance, the 
King took him to show him a wondherful field of 
beans he had, with every bean-stalk fifteen feet 
high an’ every bean the size of a goose’s egg. 

“Well, Jack,” says the King, says he, “I’ll en- 


S2 THE JOLLY BOOK 

gage ye never saw more wondherful bean-stalks 
than them?” 

‘Ts it them?” says Jack. “Arrah, man, yer 
Kingship,” says he, “they may be very good — 
for this counthry ; but sure we ’d throw them out of 
the ground for useless afther-shoots in Donegal. 
I mind one bean-stalk in partickler, that my fa- 
ther had for a show an’ a cur’osity, that he used to 
show as a great wondher entirely to sthrangers. 
It stood on ninety-nine acres of ground, it was 
nine hundred mile high, an’ every leaf covered 
nine acres. It fed nine thousand horses, nine thou- 
sand mules, an’ nine thousand jackasses for nine- 
teen years. 

“He used to send nine thousand harvestmen up 
the stalk in spring to cut and gather off the soft 
branches at the top. They used to cut these off 
when they ’d reach up as far as them (which was 
always in the harvest time), an’ throw them down; 
an’ nine hundred and ninety-nine horses an’ carts 
were kept busy for nine months cartin’ the stuff 
away. Then the harvestmen always reached 
down to the foot of the stalk at Christmas agin.” 

“Faix, Jack,” says the King, “it was a won- 
dherful bean-stalk, that, entirely.” 

“You might say that,” says Jack, trying to 
make the most of it, for he was now on his last leg. 
“You might say that,” says he. “Why, I mind 
one year I went up the stalk with the harvestmen, 


JACK AND THE KING 


33 


an’ when I was nine thousand mile up, does n’t I 
miss my foot, and down I come. I fell feet fore- 
most, and sunk up to my chin in a whinstone 
rock that was at the foot. 

“There I was in a quandhary — but I was not 
long ruminatin’ till I hauled out my knife, an’ cut 
off my head, an’ sent it home to look for help. I 
watched after it, as it went away, an’ lo an’ be- 
hould ye, afore it had gone half a mile I saw a fox 
set on it, and begin to worry it. 

“‘By this an’ by that,’ says I to meself, ‘but 
this is too bad! ’ — an’ I jumped out an’ away as 
hard as I could run, to the assistance of my head. 
An’ when I come up, I lifted my foot, an’ give the 
fox three kicks, an’ knocked three kings out of 
him — every one of them a nicer an’ a better 
jintleman than you.” 

“Ye’re a liar, an’ a rascally liar,” says the King. 

“More power to ye!” says Jack, givin’ three 
buck leaps clean into the air, “an’ it’s proud I am 
to get you to confess it; for I have W'on yer daugh- 
ter.” 

Right enough the King had to give up to Jack 
the daughter — an’ be the same token, from the 
first time she clapped her two eyes on Jack she 
was n’t the girl to gainsay him — an’ her weight 
in goold. 

An’ they were both of them marrid, an’ had 
such a weddin’ as surpassed all the weddin’s ever 


34 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


was heerd tell of afore or since in that country or 
in this. An’ Jack lost no time in sendin’ for his 
poor ould mother, an’ neither herself nor Jack 
ever after knew what it was to be in want. An’ 
may you an’ I never know that same naither. 

Seumas MacManus, In Chimney Comers,^ 

LIMESTONE BROTH 

OLD FABLE 

In Ireland long ago there was a man named 
O’Leary. He once went about the country, in the 
idle season, seeing would he make a penny at all 
by cutting hair, or setting razhurs and penknives, 
or any other job that would fall in his way. 

Well an’ good — he was one day walking alone 
in the mountains of Kerry, without a ha’p’ny in 
his pocket (for though he travelled afoot, it cost 
him more than he earned), an’ knowing there was 
but little love for a County Limerick man in the 
place where he was, an’ being half perished with 
the hunger, an’ evening drawing nigh, he did n’t 
know well what to do with himself till morning. 

Very good — he went along the wild road, an’ 
if he did, he soon see a farmhouse at a little dis- 
tance, o’ one side — a snug-looking place, with the 
smoke curling up out of the chimney, an’ all 
tokens of good living inside. 

^ By permission of Doubleday Page & Company. 


LIMESTONE BROTH 


35 


Well, some people would live where a fox would 
starve. What do you think did O’Leary do? He 
would n’t beg, (a thing one of his people never 
done yet, thank heaven!) an’ he had n’t the 
money to buy a thing; so what does he do? He 
takes up a couple o’ the big limestones that were 
lying on the road, in his two hands, an’ away 
with him to the house. 

“Good health to all here!” says he walken’ in 
the doore. 

“And you kindly,” says they. 

“I’m come to you,” says he, looking at the two 
limestones, “to know would you let me make a 
little limestone broth over your fire, until I’ll 
make my dinner?” 

“Limestone broth!” says they to him again; 
“what’s that, eroo?^* 

“Broth made o’ limestone,” says he, “what 
else?” 

“We never heard of such a thing,” says they. 

“Why, then, you may hear it now,” says he, 
“an’ see it also, if you’ll gi’ me a pot an’ a couple 
o’ quarts o’ soft wather.” 

“You can have it an’ welcome,” says they. 

So they put down the pot an’ the wather, an’ 
O’Leary went over an’ tuk a chair hard-by the 
pleasant fire for himself, an’ put down his two lime- 
stones to boil, an’ kep’ stirring them round like 
stirabout. Very good — well, by-an’-by, when the 


36 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


wather began to boil — “ ’T is thickening finely,” 
says O’Leary; “now if it had a grain o’ salt at all, 
’t would be a great improvement to it.” 

“Raich down the salt-box, Nell,” says the man 
o’ the house to his wife. 

So she did. 

“O! that’s the very thing just,” says O’Leary, 
shaking some of it into the pot. 

So he stirred it again awhile, looking as sober as 
a minister. By-an’-by, he takes the spoon he had 
stirring it, an’ tastes it. 

“It is very good now,” says he, “although it 
wants something yet.” 

“What is it?” says they. 

“Oyeh, wisha, nothing,” says he; “maybe ’t is 
only fancy o’ me.” 

“If it’s anything we can give you,” says they, 
“you’re welcome to it.” 

“’Tis very good as it is,” says he; “but when 
I’m at home, I find it gives it a fine flavour just to 
boil a little knuckle o’ bacon, or mutton trotters, 
or anything that way, along with it.” 

“Raich hether that bone o’ sheep’s head we had 
at dinner yesterday, Nell,” says the man o’ the 
house. 

“Oyeh, don’t mind it,” says O’Leary; “let it be 
as it is.” 

“Sure if it improves it, you may as well,” says 
they. 


THE BEST OF THE BARGAIN 37 


** Baithershin!'^ says O’Leary, putting it down. 

So after boiling it a good piece longer, “’T is 
as fine limestone broth,” says he, “as ever was 
tasted; an’ if a man had a few piatez,” ^ says he, 
looking at a pot of ’em that was smoking in the 
chimney corner, “he could n’t desire a better 
dinner.” 

They gave him the piatez, and he made a good 
dinner of themselves an’ the broth, not forgetting 
the bone which he polished equal to chancy, be- 
fore he let it go. The people themselves tasted it, 
an’ thought it as good as any mutton broth in the 
world. And they were after thanking him for 
showing them how to make limestone broth. 

Gerald Griffin, Collegians. 


THE BEST OF THE BARGAIN 

There once lived in the city of Bagdad, during 
the reign of the Caliph Haroun Er Raschid, a fa- 
mous barber whose name was Ali Sakai. He was 
so expert in his manner of shaving that all the 
great men of Bagdad employed him. This made 
him so vain and insolent that at length he would 
scarcely shave anyone who was not rich and noble. 

It happened one day that a poor woodcutter, 
who did not know what kind of man Ali Sakai 
was, went to his shop, and offered a load of wood 

1 Potatoes. 


38 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


for sale. Ali Sakai, who needed wood, immedi- 
ately promised him a price for all the wood that 
was on his ass. 

The woodcutter agreed to this bargain, un- 
loaded his beast, and asked for the money. 

“You have not given me all the wood yet,” 
said the barber. ‘T must have the pack-saddle 
(which was made mostly of wood,) into the bar- 
gain; that was our agreement.” 

“How,” said the other in great amazement, 
“ who ever heard of such a bargain? It is impos- 
sible!” But in spite of all the poor man’s remon- 
strances the overbearing barber seized pack-sad- 
dle, wood, and all, and sent away the peasant in 
great distress. 

The poor man ran immediately to the Cadi, and 
stated his griefs, but the Cadi was a friend of the 
barber, and refused to hear the case. The wood- 
cutter applied to a higher judge, and he too was a 
friend of the barber, and made light of the matter. 
He then appealed to the Mufti himself, with the 
like result. 

The poor man, however, was not discouraged, 
but sent a petition to the Caliph Haroun Er 
Raschid, who promptly summoned the peasant 
before him. 

The woodcutter hastened to present himself, 
and kissed the ground before the throne, and then 
awaited the Caliph’s decision. 


THE BEST OF THE BARGAIN 39 


“My friend,” said the Caliph, “the barber has 
words upon his side, — you have equity on yours. 
The law must be defined by words, and agree- 
ments must be made by words. Agreements must 
be kept, or there would be no faith between man 
and man. Therefore, the barber must keep all the 
wood; but — ” then calling the woodcutter close 
to him, the Caliph whispered something in his ear, 
which none but he could hear and the poor man 
went away satisfied. 

A few days after this the woodcutter went to 
the barber, and, as if nothing had happened, 
asked him to shave his head, and also his com- 
panion who waited without. The barber, pleased 
to think that he had got off so easily in the affair 
of the wood, agreed to shave them both. 

The woodcutter immediately went out and re- 
turned leading his ass behind him by the halter. 
“This is my companion,” said he, “and you must 
shave him.” 

“Shave him!” exclaimed the barber. “Is it not 
enough that I have demeaned myself by promising 
to touch you; that now you insult me by asking 
me to shave your ass! Away with you!” and he 
drove them both out of his shop. 

The woodcutter ran straightway to the Caliph, 
was admitted to his presence, and stated his case. 

“ ’T is well I ” said the Commander of the Faith- 
ful; “bring Ali Sakai and his razors to me this 


40 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


instant.” In the course of a few minutes the bar- 
ber stood before him. 

‘‘Why do you refuse to shave this man’s com- 
panion.? ’’asked the Caliph. “Was not that your 
agreement.? ” 

Ali kissed the ground before the throne, and 
answered, “’T is true, O Caliph, that such was 
our agreement, but whoever made a companion 
of an ass before.? Or whoever thought of shaving 
one?” 

“ You may say right,” answered the Caliph, 
“but whoever thought of insisting that a pack- 
saddle should be included in a load of wood? No, 
no! It is the woodcutter’s turn now. Shave the 
ass immediately, or lose your head.” 

The ass was brought in, and the barber, filled 
with mortification, was obliged to prepare a great 
quantity of soap-suds, and to lather the beast 
from head to feet. He then had to shave it in the 
presence of the Caliph and his court, whilst all 
who looked on jeered and laughed at him. 

As for the poor woodcutter, as soon as his ass 
was shaved, the Caliph presented him with a 
purse filled with gold-pieces, and the man re- 
turned to his family rejoicing. 

James Morier, Hajji Baba of Ispahan. 


THE SOUL OF THE LICENTIATE 41 


THE SOUL OF THE LICENTIATE 

Two scholars on their way from Pennafiel to 
Salamanca, being thirsty and fatigued, sat down 
by a spring they met with on the road. There, 
while they rested themselves, after having 
quenched their thirst, they perceived by accident 
upon a stone that was even with the surface of the 
earth, some letters already half effaced by time 
and the feet of flocks that came to water at the 
fountain. Having washed it they read these words 
in the Castilian tongue : — 

“Here is interred the soul of the Licentiate 
Peter Garcias.” 

The younger of the two students, being a pert 
coxcomb, no sooner read this inscription, than he 
cried with a loud laugh : — 

“A good joke i’ faith! Here is interred the soul 
— a soul interred! Who the devil could be the 
author of such a wise epitaph!” 

So saying he got up and went away, while his 
companion, who was blessed with a greater share 
of penetration, said to himself : — 

“There is certainly some mystery in this affair! 
I’ll stay in order to unriddle it.” 

Accordingly his comrade was no sooner out of 
sight, than he began to dig with his knife all 
around the stone, and succeeded so well that he 


42 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


got it up and found beneath it a leathern 
purse containing a hundred ducats and a card 
on which was written the following sentence in 
Latin : — 

“Whosoever thou art who hast wit enough to 
discover the meaning of the inscription, inherit 
my money and make a better use of it than I 
have done.” 

The scholar, rejoicing at his good fortune, 
placed the stone in its former situation, and 
walked home to Salamanca with the soul of the 
licentiate. 

Alain Rene Le Sage, Gtl Bias, 


TABLE DIPLOMACY 

Being at Constantinople a few years since, (on 
a delicate mission,) — the Russians were playing 
a double game, between ourselves, and it became 
necessary on our part to employ an extra negotia- 
tor, — Leckerbiss Pasha of Roumelia, then Chief 
Galeongee of the Porte, gave a diplomatic ban- 
quet at his summer Palace at Bujukdere. I was 
on the left of the Galeongee, and the Russian 
agent. Count de Diddloff, on his dexter side. 
Diddloff is a dandy who would die of a rose in 
aromatic pain. He had tried to have me assassi- 
nated three times in the course of the negotiation; 
but of course we were friends in public, and sa- 


TABLE DIPLOMACY 43 

luted each other in the most cordial and charming 
manner. 

The Galeongee is — or was, alas! for a bowstring 
has done for him — a staunch supporter of the 
old school of Turkish politics. We dined with our 
fingers, and had flaps of bread for plates. The 
only innovation he admitted was the use of Euro- 
pean liquors, in which he indulged with great 
gusto. He was an enormous eater. Amongst the 
dishes a very large one was placed before him of a 
lamb dressed in its wool, stuffed with prunes, gar- 
lic, assafoetida, capsicums, and other condiments, 
the most abominable mixture that ever mortal 
smelt or tasted. 

The Galeongee ate of this hugely, and, pursuing 
the Eastern fashion, insisted on helping his friends 
right and left, and when he came to a particularly 
spicy morsel, would push it with his own hands 
into his guests’ very mouths. 

I shall never forget the look of poor Diddloff , 
when his Excellency, rolling up a large quantity 
of this into a ball, and exclaiming, “Buk Buk!” 
(it is very good,) administered the horrible bolus 
to Diddloff. The Russian’s eyes rolled dreadfully 
as he received it. He swallowed it with a grimace 
that I thought must precede a convulsion, and 
seizing a bottle next him, which he thought was 
Sauterne, but which turned out to be French 
brandy, he drank off nearly a pint before he knew 


44 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


his error. It finished him. He was carried away 
from the dining-room almost dead, and laid out to 
cool in a summer-house on the Bosphorus. 

When it came to my turn, I took down the con- 
diment with a smile, licked my lips with easy grati- 
fication, and when the next dish was served, made 
up a ball myself so dexterously, and popped it 
down the old Galeongee’s mouth with such grace, 
that his heart was won. Russia was put out of 
court at once, and the Treaty of Kabobanople was 
signed. 

As for Diddloff, all was over with him. He 
was recalled to St. Petersburg, and Sir Roderick 
Murchison saw him under No. 3967, working in 
the Ural mines. 

William Makepeace Thackeray, The Book of Snobs. 


PEAS WITH A KNIFE 

I ONCE knew a man who committed before me a 
most atrocious act. I once, I say, knew a man 
who dining in my company at the Europa Coffee- 
House, (as everybody knows, the only decent 
place for dining at Naples,) ate peas with the assist- 
ance of his knife ! 

He was a person with whose society I was 
greatly pleased at first, — indeed, we had met in 
the crater of Mount Vesuvius, and were subse- 
quently robbed and held to ransom by brigands 


PEAS WITH A KNIFE 


45 


in Calabria, which is nothing to the purpose, — 
a man of great powers, excellent heart, and varied 
information; but I had never before seen him with 
a dish of peas, and his conduct in regard to them 
caused me the deepest pain. 

After having seen him thus publicly comport 
himself, but one course was open to me, — to 
cut his acquaintance. I commissioned a mutual 
friend (the Honourable Poly Anthus) to break 
the matter to this gentleman as delicately as pos- 
sible, and to say that painful circumstances — 
in nowise affecting Mr. Marrowfat’s honour or 
my esteem for him — had occurred which obliged 
me to forgo my intimacy with him; and accord- 
ingly we met, and gave each other the cut direct, 
that night at the Duchess of Monte Fiasco’s ball. 

Everybody at Naples remarked the separation 
of the Damon and Pythias, — indeed. Marrowfat 
had saved my life more than once, — but as an 
English gentleman, what was I to do? 

My dear friend being an Englishman had 
committed an atrocious act. It is not, however, 
wrong for persons of rank of any other nation to 
employ their knives in the manner alluded to. I 
have seen Monte Fiasco clean his trencher with 
his knife, and every Principe in company do like- 
wise. I have seen at the hospitable board of 
H. I. H. the Grand Duchess Stephanie of Baden, 
I have seen, I say, the Hereditary Princess of 


46 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Potztausend-Donnerwetter, (that serenely beau- 
tiful woman,) use her knife in lieu of a fork or 
spoon. I have seen her almost swallow it, by 
Jove! like Ramo Samee the Indian juggler. And 
did I blench.^ Did my estimation for the Princess 
diminish.^ No, lovely Amalia! One of the truest 
passions that ever was inspired by woman, was 
raised in this bosom by that lady. Beautiful one! 
long, long may the knife carry food to those lips! 
the reddest and loveliest in the world! 

The cause of my quarrel with Marrowfat I never 
breathed to mortal soul for four years. We met 
in the halls of the aristocracy, — our friends and 
relatives. We jostled each other in the dance or at 
the board, but the estrangement continued, and 
seemed irrevocable until the fourth of June last. 

We met at Sir George Golloper’s. We were 
placed, he on the right, your humble servant on 
the left of the admirable Lady G. Peas formed 
part of the banquet, — ducks and green peas. I 
trembled as I saw Marrowfat helped, and turned 
away sickening lest I should behold the weapon 
darting down his horrid jaws. 

What was my astonishment, what my delight, 
when I saw him use his fork like any other Chris- 
tian! He did not administer the cold steel once. 
Old times rushed back upon me, — the remem- 
brance of old services, — his rescuing me from the 
brigands, — his gallant conduct in the affair with 


PEAS WITH A KNIFE 


47 


the Countess Dei Spinachi, — his lending me the 
£1700. I almost burst into tears with joy, — my 
voice trembled with emotion. 

“George, my boy I” I exclaimed. “George 
Marrowfat, my dear fellow! a glass of wine!” 

Blushing, deeply moved, — almost as tremulous 
as I was myself, George answered, “Frank, shall it 
be Hock or Madeira? ” 

I could have hugged him, but for the presence 
of the company. Little did Lady Golloper know 
what caused the motion which sent the duckling 
I was carving into her Ladyship’s pink satin lap. 
The most good-natured of women pardoned the 
error, and the butler removed the bird. 

We have been the closest friends ever since, nor, 
of course, has George repeated his odious habit. 
He acquired it at a country school where they 
cultivated peas and only used two-pronged forks, 
and it was only by living on the Continent, where 
the usage of the four-prong is general, that he lost 
the horrible custom. 

If this tale but induce one of my readers to 
pause, to examine his own mind solemnly, and 
ask, “Do I, or do I not, eat peas with a knife?” 
to see the ruin which may fall upon himself by 
continuing the practice, or his family by behold- 
ing the example, — these lines will not have been 
written in vain. 

William Makepeace Thackeray, The Book of Snobs. 


48 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


MR. PICKWICK COLLECTS SCIEN- 
TIFIC INFORMATION 

Mr. Pickwick, with his portmanteau in his 
hand, his telescope in his great-coat pocket, and 
his notebook in his waistcoat ready for the recep- 
tion of any discoveries worthy of being noted 
down, had arrived at the coach-stand in Saint 
Martin’s-le-Grand. 

“Cab!” said Mr. Pickwick. 

“Here you are, sir,” shouted a strange specimen 
of the human race, in a sackcloth coat, and apron 
of the same, who with a brass label and number 
round his neck, looked as if he were catalogued in 
some collection of rarities. This was the water- 
man. “Here you are, sir. Now, then, fust cab I” 
And the first cab having been fetched from the 
public-house, where he had been smoking his first 
pipe, Mr. Pickwick and his portmanteau were 
thrown into the vehicle. 

“Golden Cross,” said Mr. Pickwick. 

“Only a bob’s vorth. Tommy,” cried the driver 
sulkily, for the information of his friend the water- 
man, as the cab drove off. 

“How old is that horse, my friend?” inquired 
Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his nose with the shilling 
he had reserved for the fare. 

“Forty-two,” replied the driver, eyeing him 
askant. 


MR. PICKWICK 


49 


“What!” ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, laying his 
hand upon his notebook. The driver reiterated 
his former statement. Mr. Pickwick looked very 
hard at the man’s face, but his features were im- 
moveable, so he noted down the fact forthwith. 

“And how long do you keep him out at a time? ” 
inquired Mr. Pickwick, searching for further in- 
formation. 

“Two or three veeks,” replied the man. 

“Weeks!” said Mr. Pickwick in astonishment, 
— and out came the notebook again. 

“He lives at Pentonwil, when he’s at home,” 
observed the driver coolly, “but we seldom takes 
him home, on account of his veakhess.” 

“On account of his weakness!” reiterated the 
perplexed Mr. Pickwick. 

“He always falls down, when he’s took out o’ 
the cab,” continued the driver, “but when he’s in 
it, we bears him up werry tight, and takes him in 
werry short, so as he can’t werry well fall down, 
and we’ve got a pair o’ precious large wheels on; 
so ven he does move, they run after him, and he 
must go on, — he can’t help it.” 

Mr. Pickwick entered every word of this state- 
ment in his notebook, with the view of communi- 
cating it to the club, as a singular instance of the 
tenacity of life in horses, under trying circum- 
stances. The entry was scarcely completed when 
they reached the Golden Cross. Down jumped 


50 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


the driver, and out got Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Tup- 
man, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, who had 
been anxiously waiting the arrival of their illus- 
trious leader, crowded to welcome him. 

“Here’s your fare,” said Mr. Pickwick, holding 
out the shilling to the driver. 

What was the learned man’s astonishment, 
when that unaccountable person flung the money 
on the pavement, and requested in figurative 
terms to be allowed the pleasure of fighting him 
(Mr. Pickwick) for the amount! 

“You are mad,” said Mr. Snodgrass. 

“Or drunk,” said Mr. Winkle. 

“Or both,” said Mr. Tupman. 

“Come on,” said the cab-driver, sparring away 
like clock-work. “Come on, — all four on you!” 

“Here’s a lark!” shouted half a dozen hack- 
ney coachmen. “Go to vork, Sam,” and they 
crowded with great glee round the party. 

“What’s the row, Sam.^” inquired one gentle- 
man in black calico sleeves. 

“Row!” replied the cabman. “What did he 
want my number for? ” 

“I did n’t want your number,” said the aston- 
ished Mr. Pickwick. 

“What did you take it for, then?” inquired 
the cabman. 

“I did n’t take it,” said Mr. Pickwick indig- 
nantly. 


MR. PICKWICK 


51 


“Would anybody believe,” continued the cab- 
driver, appealing to the crowd, “would anybody 
believe as an informer ’ud go about in a man’s 
cab, not only takin’ down his number, but 
ev’ry word he says 'into the bargain?” (a light 
flashed upon Mr. Pickwick, — it was the note- 
book.) 

“Did he though?” inquired another cabman. 

“Yes, did he,” replied the flrst, “and then 
arter aggerawatin’ me to assault him, gets three 
witnesses here to prove it. But I ’ll give it him, if 
I’ve six months for it. Come on,” and the cab- 
man dashed his hat upon the ground, with a reck- 
less disregard of his own private property, and 
knocked Mr. Pickwick’s spectacles off, and fol- 
lowed up the attack with a blow on Mr. Pick- 
wick’s nose, and another on Mr. Pickwick’s chest, 
and a third in Mr. Snodgrass’s eye, a fourth by 
way of variety in Mr. Tupman’s waistcoat, and 
then danced into the road, and then back again to 
the pavement, and finally dashed the whole tem- 
porary supply of breath out of Mr. Winkle’s 
body; and all in half a dozen seconds. 

“Where’s an officer?” said Mr. Snodgrass. 

“Put ’em under the pump,” suggested a hot- 
pieman. 

“You shall smart for this,” gasped Mr. Pick- 
wick. 

“Informers,” shouted the crowd. 


52 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Come on,” cried the cabman, who had been 
sparring without cessation, the whole time. 

The mob had hitherto been passive spectators 
of the scene, but as the intelligence of the Pick- 
wickians being informers was spread among them, 
they began to canvass with considerable vivacity 
the propriety of enforcing the heated pastry ven- 
der’s proposition; and there is no saying what 
acts of personal aggression they might have com- 
mitted had not the affray been unexpectedly ter- 
minated by the interposition of a new comer. 

“What’s the fun.^^” said a rather tall, thin, 
young man in a green coat, emerging suddenly 
from the coach-yard. 

“Informers!” shouted the crowd again. 

“We are not!” roared Mr. Pickwick, in a tone 
which to any dispassionate listener carried con- 
viction with it. 

“Ain’t you, though, — ain’t you?” said the 
young man, appealing to Mr. Pickwick, and mak- 
ing his way through the crowd by the infallible 
process of elbowing the countenances of its com- 
ponent members. 

That learned man in a few hurried words ex- 
plained the real state of the case. 

“Come along, then,” said he of the green coat, 
lugging Mr. Pickwick after him by main force, 
and talking the whole way. 

“Here, No. 924, take your fare, and take your- 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 53 


self off — respectable gentleman — know him 
well — none of your nonsense — this way, sir — 
where’s your friends? — all a mistake I see — 
never mind — accidents vwill happen — best regu- 
lated families — never say die — down upon 
your luck — ” 

And with a lengthened string of similar broken 
sentences, delivered with extraordinary volubil- 
ity, the stranger led the way to the travellers’ 
waiting-room, whither he was closely followed by 
Mr. Pickwick and his disciples. 

Chables Dickens, Pickmck Papers, 

TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE DYES HIS 
HAIR 

THE CYANOCHAITANTHROPOPOION 

Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse, realizing that he 
might soon be heir to ten thousand a year, and 
being highly elated by the invitation of Mr. Tag- 
rag to Sunday dinner at Satin Lodge, sat himself 
down to consider how he might make himself 
more beautiful. 

The first thing he thought of was his abomin- 
able sandy-coloured hair, for Heaven seemed to 
have suddenly given him the long-coveted means 
of changing its detested hue. 

Early in the afternoon, therefore, he directed 
his steps to the well-known shop of a fashion- 


54 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


able perfumer and hair-dresser. Having watched 
through the window till the coast was clear, he 
entered the shop, where a well-dressed gentleman 
was sitting behind the counter reading. He was 
handsome, and his elaborately curled hair was of 
a heavenly black, — so at least Titmouse con- 
sidered it. With a little hesitation he asked this 
gentleman what was the price of their article “for 
turning light hair black,” and was answered, 
“only seven and sixpence for the smaller-sized 
bottle.” One was in a twinkling placed upon the 
counter, where it lay like a miniature mummy, 
swathed in manifold advertisements. 

“You’ll find,” said the black-haired gentleman, 
with glibness, “the fullest directions within, and 
testimonials from the highest nobility to the 
wonderful efficacy of the ‘cyanochaitanthropo- 

POION.’ ” 

Sure it will do, sir?” inquired Titmouse anx- 
iously. 

“Is my hair dark enough to your taste, sir?” 
said the gentleman, with a calm and bland man- 
ner, “because I owe it entirely to this invaluable 
specific.” 

“Do you indeed, sir?” inquired Titmouse, add- 
ing with a sigh, “but between ourselves, look at 
mine,” and lifting off his hat for a moment, he 
exhibited a great crop of bushy, carroty hair. 

“Whew! rather ugly that, sir!” exclaimed the 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 55 


gentleman looking very serious. “What a curse 
it is to be born with such hair, is n’t it?” 

“’Pon my life I think so, sir!” answered Tit- 
mouse mournfully; “ and dd you really say, sir, 
that this what’s-its-name turned yours of that 
beautiful black?” 

“Think? ’Pon my honour, sir, — certain; no 
mistake, I assure you. Why, sir, there was a 
nobleman — ” 

“How long does it take to do all this, sir?” in- 
terrupted Titmouse eagerly with a fast-beating 
heart. 

“Sometimes two, — sometimes three days. In 
four days’ time I’ll answer your most intimate 
friend would not know you.” 

Here another customer entered, and Titmouse, 
laying down the five-pound note he had squeezed 
out of Tagrag, put the wonder-working bottle 
into his pocket, and, on receiving his change, de- 
parted, bursting with eagerness to try the effects 
of the CYANOCHAITANTHROPOPOION. 

After taking a hearty dinner in a little, dusky 
eating house, frequented by fashionable-looking 
foreigners with splendid heads of curling hair and 
mustaches, he hastened home eager to commence 
the grand experiment. Fortunately he was un- 
disturbed that evening. Having lit his candle, 
and locked his door, with tremulous fingers he 
opened the papers enveloping the little bottle, 


56 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


and read of certain noble personages all of whom 
“from having hair of the reddest possible descrip- 
tion, were now possessed of raven-hued locks.” 

Throwing down the paper, he hurriedly got 
the cork out of the bottle. Having turned up his 
coat-cuffs, he commenced the application of the 
CYANOCHAiTANTHROPOPOiON, rubbing it into his 
hair, eyebrows, and whiskers. And, about eleven 
o’clock, having given sundry curious glances at 
the glass, he got into bed full of exciting hopes 
and delightful anxieties. 

He dreamed a rapturous dream that he bowed 
to a gentleman with coal-black hair, and sud- 
denly discovered that he was only looking at him- 
self in a looking-glass. This awoke him. Up he 
jumped, — sprang to his little glass breathlessly, 
— but ah! merciful Heavens! He almost dropped 
down dead ! His hair was 'perfectly green ! 

He stood staring in the glass in speechless hor- 
ror, his eyes and mouth distended to their utmost. 
Then he threw himself on the bed and felt faint- 
ing. Out he presently jumped again in a kind of 
ecstasy, — rubbed his hair desperately and wildly 
about, — again looked into the glass, — there it 
was rougher than before, but eyebrows, whiskers 
and head all were if anything a more vivid and bril- 
liant green. 

Despair came over him. It was plain he must 
have his head shaved, and wear a wig which would 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 57 


be making an old man of him at once. Getting 
more and more disturbed in his mind he dressed 
himself half determined on starting off to the hair- 
dresser’s and breaking every pane of glass in the 
front window of the infernal impostor who had 
sold him the liquid. At that moment he heard 
the step of Mrs. Squallop, his landlady, approach- 
ing his door, and he recollected that he had or- 
dered her to bring up his tea-kettle about that 
hour. 

Having no time to take his clothes off, he 
popped into bed, drew the blankets over him, 
pulled his nightcap down to his ears and eye- 
brows, and, turning his back, pretended to be 
asleep. In his hurry he had left his legs, with 
boots and trousers on, exposed to view. He lay 
as still as a mouse. 

Mrs. Squallop entered, and, after glancing with 
surprise at his legs, happened to look toward the 
window and beheld a small bottle standing there, 
only half of whose dark contents were remaining. 
O gracious! of course it must be poison, amd Mr. 
Titmouse must be dead 1 

In a sudden fright she dropped the kettle, 
plucked the clothes off the trembling Titmouse, 
and cried out : — 

“O Mr. Titmouse! Mr. Titmouse! what have 
you been — ” 

“How dare you.^” commenced Titmouse sud- 


58 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


denly sitting up, and looking furiously at Mrs. 
Squallop. An inconceivably strange and horrid 
figure he looked! He had all his day-clothes on; 
a white cotton nightcap was drawn down to his 
eyes; his face was very pale, and his whiskers were 
of a bright green colour. 

“Oh law! Oh lawks!” exclaimed Mrs. Squal- 
lop faintly, the moment that this strange appari- 
tion presented itself. 

“Well, is n’t it an infernal shame, Mrs. Squal- 
lop,” cried Titmouse getting off the bed, and, 
plucking off his nightcap, he exhibited the full 
extent of his misfortune. 

“What do you think of that?” he exclaimed 
staring wildly at her. 

Mrs. Squallop gave a faint shriek, turned her 
head aside, and motioned him away. 

“I shall go mad, — I shall cried Titmouse 
tearing his green hair. And stuttering with fury, 
he explained to her what had taken place. 

As he went on, Mrs. Squallop became less and 
less able to control herself, and at length burst 
into a fit of convulsive laughter, and sat holding 
her hands to her fat shaking sides, and appeared 
likely to tumble off her chair. 

Titmouse was almost on the point of striking 
her. At length, however, the fit went off, and, 
wiping her eyes, she expressed the greatest com- 
miseration for him, and proposed to go down and 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 59 


fetch up some soft soap and flannel, and try what 
“a good hearty wash would do.” 

Scarce sooner said than done, — but alas ! in 
vain ! Scrub, scrub, lather, lather, did they 
both, but the instant that the soap-suds had been 
washed off, there was the head as green as ever. 

“O murder! murder! what am I to do, Mrs. 
Squallop?” groaned Titmouse, having taken an- 
other look at himself in the glass. 

“Why I’d be off to a police-station, and have 
’em all taken up, if as how I was 2/ow,” quoth Mrs. 
Squallop indignantly. 

“No! See if I don’t take that bottle, and make 
the fellow that sold it me swallow what ’s left, — 
and I’ll smash in his shop-front besides!” 

“Oh ! you won’t — you must n’t — not on no ac- 
count! Stop at home a bit, and be quiet! it may 
go off with all this washing, in the course of the 
day. Soft soap is an uncommon strong thing for 
getting colours out. — But — a — a — excuse me 
now, Mr. Titmouse,” said Mrs. Squallop, seri- 
ously, — “why was n’t you satisfied with the hair 
God Almighty had given you? D ’ye think He 
did n’t know a deal better than you what was best 
for you? I’m blest if I don’t think this is a judg- 
ment on you, when one comes to consider.” 

“What’s the use of your standing preaching to 
me in this way, Mrs. Squallop?” said Titmouse, 
first with amazement, and then with fury in his 


60 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


manner. “A’n’t I half mad without it.? Judg- 
ment or no judgment, — where’s the harm of my 
wanting black hair any more than black trousers.? 
That a’n’t your own hair, Mrs. Squallop, — 
you ’re as grey as a badger underneath, — ’pon my 
soul I I ’ve often remarked it, — I have, ’pon my 
soul!” 

‘T’ll tell you what, Mr. Himperancel” furi- 
ously exclaimed Mrs. Squallop, “you’re a liar! 
And you deserve what you’ve got! It is a judg- 
ment, and I hope it will stick by you, — so take 
that for your sauce, you vulgar fellow I ” (snapping 
her fingers at him.) “Get rid of your green hair 
if you can! It’s only carrot tops instead of carrot 
roots, — and some likes one, some the other, — 
ha! ha! ha!” 

“I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Squallop, — ” he com- 
menced, but she had gone, having slammed to the 
door behind her with all her force. 

Titmouse was left alone in a half-frantic 
state, in which he continued for nearly two hours. 
Once again he read the atrocious puffs which had 
over night inflated him to such a degree, and he 
now saw they were all lies. At the end of the cir- 
cular he read : — 

“ The exquisite effect of dazzling jet-black hair is 
not in all cases produced instantaneously. Often a 
single application suffices to change the most hope- 
less-looking head of red hair to as deep a black ; but 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 61 


not unfrequently, the hair passes through intermedi- 
ate shades and tints, — all, however, ultimately set- 
tling into a deep and permanent black.’^ 

This passage not a little revived the drooping 
spirits of Titmouse. Accidentally, however, an 
asterisk at the last word of the above sentence di- 
rected his eye to a note at the bottom of the page, 
printed in such minute type, that none but the 
strongest sight and determined eye could read it; 
and which said note was as follows : — 

“ Though cases do, undoubtedly, occur, in which 
the native inherent indestructible qualities of the 
hair defy all attempts at change or even modification, 
and resist even this potent remedy,’^ 


“Look, sir! Look! Only look here what your 
cussed stuff has done to my hair!” said Titmouse, 
on presenting himself soon after to the gentleman 
who had sold him the infernal liquid; and, taking 
off his hat, exposed his green hair. 

The gentleman, however, did not appear at all 
surprised or discomposed. “Ah, — yes! I see, — 
I see. You ’re in the intermediate stage. It differs 
with different people — ” 

“Differs, sir! I’m going mad! I look like a 
green monkey. Look at me, sir! Eyebrows, whis- 
kers, and all!” 

"‘Rather a singular appearance, just at present, 
I must own,” said the gentleman, his face turning 


62 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


suddenly red, with the violent effort he was mak- 
ing to prevent an explosion of laughter. He soon, 
however, recovered himself, and added coolly, — 
“If you’ll only persevere — ” 

“Persevere!” interrupted Titmouse, violently 
clapping his hat on his head, “I’ll teach you to 
'persevere in taking in the public! I’ll have a war- 
rant out against you in no time!” 

“Oh! my dear sir, I’m accustomed to all this,” 
said the gentleman coolly. “Often, this happens 
while the liquid is performing the first stages of 
the change; but in a day or two afterward the 
parties generally come back smiling into my shop, 
with heads as black as crows.” 

“No! But really, — do they, sir?” interrupted 
Titmouse, drawing a long breath. “Well, if I and 
my landlady have this morning used an ounce, 
we ’ve used a quarter of a pound of soft soap in — ” 
“ Soft soap ! — soft soap ! ” cried out the gentle- 
man, with an air of sudden alarm. “ That explains 
all! Soft soap, sir! Why you may have ruined 
your hair for ever!” 

Titmouse opened his eyes and mouth with a 
start of terror, it not occurring to his astute mind 
that the intolerable green had preceded, not fol- 
lowed, the use of the soft soap. 

“Go home, my dear sir,” said the gentleman, 
“go home, as you value your hair. Take this 
small bottle of Damascus cream, and rub it in 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 63 


before it is too late, then use the remainder of 
the—’’ 

“Then you don’t think it’s already too late?” 
inquired Titmouse, faintly; and, having been as- 
sured to the contrary, he asked the price of the 
DAMASCUS CREAM, which was *‘only three-and- 
sixpence.” He purchased and paid for it with a 
rueful air, and took his departure. He sneaked 
homeward along the streets with the air of a pick- 
pocket, while many a person smiled and stared, 
and turned round to look at him as he went along. 

THE DAMASCUS CREAM 

He slunk upstairs to his room in a sad state of 
depression, and spent the next hour in rubbing 
into his hair the Damascus cream. He rubbed 
till he could hardly hold his arms up any longer, 
from sheer fatigue. 

Having risen, at length, to mark from the glass 
the progress he had made, he found that the only 
result of his exertions had been to give a greasy, 
shining appearance to the hair, which remained 
green as ever. With a half-uttered groan he sank 
down upon a chair. 

W^hen Titmouse rose the next morning, behold! 
— he found his hair had become of a variously 
shaded purple or violet colour ! 

Astonishment and apprehension by turns pos- 


64 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


sessed him, as he stared into the glass, at this un- 
looked-for change of colour; and, hastily dressing 
himself, after swallowing a very slight breakfast, 
off he went once more to the hair-dresser’s estab- 
lishment. The distinguished inventor and proprie- 
tor of the CYANOCHAiTANTHROPOPOiON was behind 
the counter as usual, — calm and confident as 
ever. 

“Ah! I see, — as I said! as I said!” quoth he, 
with a sort of glee in his manner. “Is n’t it.^ — 
coming round quicker than usual. — Really, I’m 
selling more of the article than I can possibly 
make.” 

“Well,” at length said Titmouse, as soon as he 
had recovered from the surprise occasioned by 
the sudden volubility with which he had been 
assailed on entering, — “then, is it really going 
on tolerable well?” taking off his hat, and looking 
anxiously into a glass that hung close by. 

Tolerable well, my dear sir! Delightful! Per- 
fect! Could n’t be better! If you’d studied the 
thing, you’d know, sir, that purple is the middle 
colour between green and black. Indeed, black ’s 
only purple and green mixed, which explains the 
whole thing.” 

“I’m going to a grand dinner, to-morrow, sir,” 
said Titmouse, anxiously, “with some great peo- 
ple at the west end of the town, — eh? you under- 
stand? will it do by that time? Would give a trifie 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 65 


to get my hair a shade darker by that time, — 
hem! — You understand?” 

“Yes, I do,” replied the gentleman of the shop, 
and opening one of the glass doors behind him, 
took out a bottle considerably larger than the 
first, and handed it to Titmouse. “This,” said he, 
“will complete the, thing. It combines chemically 
with the purple particles, and the result is — gen- 
erally arrived at in about two days’ time.” 

“But it will do something in a night’s time, — 
eh! — surely?” asked Titmouse. 

“I should think so. But here it is, — it is called 

the TETARAGMENON ABRACADABRA.” 

“What a name!” exclaimed Titmouse with a 
kind of awe. “’Pon honour! it almost takes one’s 
breath away. How much is it?” he added ea- 
gerly, thrusting his hand into his pocket, with no 
little excitement. 

“Only nine-and-sixpence.” 

“Oh, my stars, what a price! Nine-and-six! 
But — really — I ’ve laid out a large figure with 
you, sir, this day or two! Could n’t you say eight 
shillings, sir?” 

“We never abate our price, sir, it’s not our 
style of doing business,” replied the gentleman, in 
a manner that quite over-awed poor Titmouse, 
who at once bought this, the third abomination, 
not a little depressed, however, at the heavy 
prices which he had paid for the three bottles. 


66 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


THE TETAEAGMENON ABEACADABKA 

That night he tried the effects of the tetae- 
AGMENON ABEACADABEA Only upon his eyebrows 
and whiskers. Into them he rubbed the new spe- 
cific; which, on the bottle being opened, surprised 
him in two respects. First it was perfectly colour- 
less; secondly, it had a most infernal smell. Away 
he rubbed, and, when he had finished, got into bed, 
in humble hope as to the result which would be 
disclosed by the morning’s light. 

But, alas! would you have believed it? When 
he looked at himself in the glass about six o’clock 
on the ensuing morning, his eyebrows and whiskers 
were as white as snow! which, combined with the 
purple colour of the hair on his head, rendered 
him one of the most astounding objects the eye 
of man had ever beheld. 

There was the wisdom of age seated in his white 
eyebrows and whiskers, unspeakable youthful 
folly in his features, and a purple crown of wonder 
on his head. He turned aghast at the monstrous 
object which his little glass presented to him, and 
sank down upon the bed with the feeling that he 
was now fit for death. 

As before, Mrs. Squallop made her appearance 
with his kettle for breakfast. He was sitting at 
the table dressed, arms folded, with a reckless air. 
She stared at him for a second or two in silence. 


TITMOUSE DYES HIS HAIR 67 


then, stepping back out of the room, suddenly 
drew to the door, and stood outside, laughing 
vehemently. 

“I’ll kick you down stairs!” shouted Titmouse, 
rushing to the door, pale with fury, and pulling 
it open. 

“Mr. — Mr. — Titmouse, you’ll be the death 
of me, — you will, — you will!” gasped Mrs. 
Squallop, almost black in the* face, and the water 
running out of the kettle which she was uncon- 
sciously holding aslant. 

Mrs. Squallop had fancied he had been but rub- 
bing chalk on his eyebrows and whiskers, but 
seemed dismayed indeed on hearing the true state 
of the case. He implored her to send out for a 
small bottle of ink; but as it was Sunday morning, 
none could be got. She teased him to use a little 
blacking. He did, — but it was useless. 

He sat for an hour or two, in an ecstasy of grief 
and rage. What would he now have given never 
to have meddled with the hair which Heaven had 
seen fit to send with him into the world Alas! 
with what mournful force Mrs. Squallop’s words 
again and again recurred to him. To say he ate 
his breakfast would be scarcely correct. He drank 
a single cup of cocoa, and ate a small fragment of 
a roll, and put his breakfast things on the window- 
shelf. 

Then in desperation he sallied forth to search 


68 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


for ink. After much walking to and fro, and in- 
quiry in the neighbourhood, he was able to secure 
a small bottle. With this he returned home, and 
applied the ink to his whiskers and eyebrows with 
great effect. After which he dressed himself with 
care. 

He put on a calico shirt, with linen wristbands 
and collar, taking care not to rumple a very showy 
front containing three rows of frills; in the middle 
of one of which he stuck three “studs,” looking 
exceedingly stylish, especially when coupled with 
a span-new satin stock which he next buckled 
round his neck. Having put on his shining boots, 
he carefully insinuated his legs into a pair of white 
trousers, so tight that you would have feared their 
bursting if he should have sat down hastily. Next 
he put on a roll-collar of rather faded pea-green 
silk, designed to set off a very fine fiowered dam- 
son-coloured silk waistcoat; over which he drew 
a massive mosaic-gold chain. And next he took 
his ring from its hiding place (only sharp eyes 
could tell at a distance that it was not a diamond!) 
and placed it on the stumpy little finger of his red 
and thick right hand. 

A pair of sky-coloured kid gloves next made 
their appearance, rather the worse for wear. His 
Sunday hat was gently removed from its worn 
box, and lastly he took down a thin black cane, 
with a gilt head, and full brown tassel, from a 


ABUIr-HASSAN THE WAG 69 

peg behind the door, — and his toilet was com- 
plete. 

Then did Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse, thus exquis- 
itely clad, with purple hair, and ink-black whis- 
kers and eyebrows, go forth to seek his adven- 
tures, and made his appearance at the gate of 
Satin Lodge at about a quarter to four o’clock. 

Dr. Samuel Warren, Ten Thousand a Year, 

ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG; OR, THE 
SLEEPER AWAKENED 

There was a merchant in Bagdad, in the reign 
of the Caliph Haroun Er Raschid, and he had a 
son named Abul-Hassan the Wag. This merchant 
died, leaving his son vast wealth; whereupon 
Abul-Hassan divided his property into two equal 
parts, one of which he laid aside, and the other 
he expended. 

He took for his friends a number of the sons 
of the merchants, and gave himself up to the de- 
lights of good drinking and eating, until all the 
wealth he had set aside for this purpose was ex- 
pended. Then he went to his friends and relations 
and told them how little property he had left; 
but none of them paid any attention to him, or 
uttered a word in reply. So he returned to his 
mother with a broken heart, and told her of the 
treatment he had received from his friends. 


70 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


She replied, “O Abul-Hassan, such are the 
ways of the ungrateful! So long as thou hast 
aught to expend on them, they draw near to thee; 
and when thou hast nothing they cast thee off!” 
and she grieved for him, and he sighed and wept. 

He then sprang up, and went to the place 
where was deposited the other half of his wealth, 
and upon this he lived agreeably. He took an 
oath that he would never again associate with 
any of his old friends, but with strangers; and 
that he would entertain a person for one night 
only, and afterward he would not recognize 
him. Accordingly every night he went forth and 
seated himself on the bridge, and when a stranger 
passed by, he invited him to an entertainment, 
and took him to his house, where he kept him 
until morning. He then dismissed him, and after 
that he would not salute him if he saw him. 
Thus he continued to do for a whole year. 

One day as he was sitting upon the bridge as 
usual, Haroun Er Raschid, and some of his at- 
tendants, passed by in disguise. So Abul-Hassan 
laid hold upon him, and said, “O my master, 
wilt thou not dine with me?” And Er Raschid 
complied with his request, saying, “Conduct us 
to thy home.” And Abul-Hassan knew not who 
was his guest. 

The Caliph went with him to his house, and he 
entered the saloon and saw it to be spacious and 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 


71 


beautiful and filled with wonders, and in it there 
was a pool of water and a fountain of wrought 
gold. After the Caliph had seated himself, Abul- 
Hassan called a slave-girl who was as graceful as 
a twig of Oriental willow. She took a lute, and 
sang, and played so that she ravished the minds 
of her hearers. 

Then said the Caliph to Abul-Hassan, “Young 
man, who art thou? Tell me thy history, that I 
may repay thee for thy kindness and hospitality.’’ 

But Abul-Hassan smiled and replied, “O my 
master, far be it from me that we should meet 
again, and that I should be in thy company after 
this night!” 

“And why so? ” asked the Caliph; “and why 
wilt thou not tell me thy history? ” 

So Abul-Hassan told him his story, and when 
the Caliph heard it he laughed violently, and 
said, “O my brother, thou art excusable in this 
matter.” 

Then a dish of roast goose was placed before 
the Caliph, and a cake of fine bread, and Abul- 
Hassan sat and cut the meat, and put morsels 
into the mouth of the Caliph. And they ate until 
they were satisfied; then the basin and ewer were 
brought and they washed their hands. After this 
Hassan lighted three candles and three lamps. 
He spread the wine-cloth, and brought forth clear, 
strained, old, perfumed wine, the odour of which 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


was like fragrant musk. He filled a cup with the 
wine and waited on the Caliph like a servant. 
And the Caliph, pleased with his actions and his 
politeness, said to himself, “I will certainly repay 
him for this!” 

Abul-Hassan still continued to serve him. He 
again filled the cup, and handed it to the Caliph, 
after he had kissed it three times, reciting these 
verses : — 

“ Thy presence is an honour, and fills us vnth thanks and grace. 
If thou shouldst leave us, we have none to fill thy place!'' 

“Drink,” he added, “and may it be attended 
with health and vigour.” — And they drank and 
enjoyed themselves until midnight. 

After this the Caliph said to his host, “O Abul- 
Hassan, hast thou any desire that thou wouldst 
have accomplished 

And Abul-Hassan answered, “In our neigh- 
bourhood is a Mosque, to which belong an Iman 
and four Sheikhs, and whenever there is music 
or jollity in my house, they complain to the Cadi, 
and he fines me; and they trouble my life so that 
I suffer all kinds of torment. If I had them in 
my power I would give each of them a thousand 
lashes.” 

Er Raschid replied, “May Heaven grant thee 
thy wish!” 

And without Abul-Hassan being aware of it, 
the Caliph put a sleeping potion into a cup of 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 


73 


wine, and handed it to him. The young man 
drank it, and immediately fell asleep. Er Ras- 
chid then arose, and went to the door where he 
found his attendants waiting for him. He or- 
dered them to convey the insensible Abul-Hassan 
upon a mule to the palace. 

They did so, and after the Caliph had rested 
himself in the palace, he called for his Vizier 
Jaafar, and Abdallah the son of Tahir, the Cadi 
of Bagdad, and certain of his chief attendants 
and said to them : — 

“In the morning when this young man Abul- 
Hassan awakes, salute him as Caliph, and obey 
him in all things.” 

Then going to the female slaves, the Caliph 
directed them to wait upon Abul-Hassan, and 
to address him as Prince of the Faithful. After 
this the Caliph entered a private closet, and, hav- 
ing let down a curtain before the entrance, slept. 

In the morning when Abul-Hassan awoke, he 
found himself upon the royal couch with the at- 
tendants standing around and kissing the ground 
before him. A damsel said to him, “O our lord, 
it is time for morning prayer.” Upon this Abul- 
Hassan laughed, and, looking round, saw that he 
was in a pavilion whose walls were adorned with 
gold and blue, and whose roof was ornamented 
with red gold. The doors of the pavilion were 
hung with curtains of embroidered silk, and on 


74 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


every side were crystal ornaments, vessels of 
gold, magnificent furniture, rich carpets, lighted 
lamps, and female slaves. 

Seeing all this Abul-Hassan was perplexed, and 
said to himself, “I am dreaming, or this is Para- 
dise, the Abode of Peace!” And he closed his 
eyes. Then said a eunuch to him, “O my lord, 
this is not thy usual custom! O Prince of the 
Faithful!” 

Hearing this Abul-Hassan was still more per- 
plexed, and opened his eyes little by little, laugh- 
ing and saying, “What is this state in which I 
find myself.^” And he bit his finger. And when 
he found that the bite pained him, he cried out, 
“Ah!” and was very angry. 

Then raising his head he called one of the fe- 
male slaves, who answered, “At thy service, O 
Prince of the Faithful ! ” 

And he said to her, “What is thy name?” 

And she answered, “Cluster of Pearls.” 

And he said, “Knowest thou in what place I 
am, and who I am?” 

“Thou art the Prince of the Faithful,” she re- 
plied, “sitting here in thy place upon the royal 
couch.” 

“Verily,” exclaimed Abul-Hassan, “my rea- 
son hath departed! or I sleep! Surely my yes- 
terday’s guest was a devil or an enchanter who 
hath sported with my reason!” 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 75 

All this time the Caliph was watching from a 
place where Abul-Hassan could not see him. 

Then Abul-Hassan called the Chief Eunuch. 
So he came and kissed the ground before him, 
saying, “Yes, O Prince of the Faithful.” 

And Abul-Hassan said to him, “Who is the 
Prince of the Faithful 

And the eunuch said, “Thou.” 

“Thou liest!” cried Abul-Hassan, and address- 
ing another eunuch, he said, “O my chief, as 
thou, hopest for Allah’s protection, tell me, am I 
the Prince of the Faithful?” 

“Yea, verily,” answered the eunuch, “thou 
art at this present time, the Prince of the Faith- 
ful, and the Caliph of the Lord of all creatures.” 

And Abul-Hassan was perplexed and con- 
founded at hearing this. And a eunuch advanc- 
ing handed him a pair of shoes of gold stuff 
embroidered with precious stones and rubies. 
Abul-Hassan took them, and, after examining 
them, put them in his sleeve. 

“O my lord,” said the eunuch, “these shoes 
are to walk in.” 

“Thou hast spoken the truth,” replied Abul- 
Hassan. “I put them in my sleeve for fear that 
they might become soiled I ” So he took them from 
his sleeve, and put them on his feet. 

Then the female slaves brought a basin of gold 
and a silver ewer, and poured water on his 


76 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


hands, and he washed them. Then they spread 
a prayer-rug, and he tried to pray, but his mind 
was so confused that he could not do so. Instead 
he thought on his condition, and said to himself, 
“Verily I am none other than the Prince of the 
Faithful, or else this is a dream! But then things 
like this do not happen in a dream!” 

So he convinced himself that he was the Prince 
of the Faithful, and he finished his prayers. They 
then brought him a magnificent dress, which he 
put on, and, looking at himself, he thought, 
“Surely all this is an illusion, and the enchant- 
ment of the Genii!” 

And while he was in this state, lo, one of the 
memlooks came in, and said to him, “O Prince of 
the Faithful, a chamberlain is at the door re- 
questing permission to enter.” 

“Let him enter,” replied Abul-Hassan. 

So he came in, and, having kissed the ground 
before Abul-Hassan, said, “Peace be on thee, O 
Prince of the Faithful!” 

And Abul-Hassan rose and descended from 
the couch; whereupon the chamberlain exclaimed, 
“O Prince of the Faithful! Knowest thou not 
that all men are thy servants, and under thy 
authority, and that it is not proper for the Prince 
of the Faithful to rise to any one.^^” 

At this moment Abul-Hassan was told that 
the Vizier Jaafar the Barmecide, and Abdallah 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 


77 


the son of Tahir, and the chief of the memlooks, 
were at the door begging permission to enter. 
And he gave permission. So they entered and 
kissed the ground before him, each of them ad- 
dressing him as the Prince of the Faithful. Abul- 
Hassan was delighted at this, and returned their 
salutations, after which he called for the Chief 
Cadi, who approached him and said, “At thy 
service, O Prince of the Faithful ! ” 

And Abul-Hassan said to him, “Repair im- 
mediately to such a street, and give a hundred 
pieces of gold to the mother of Abul-Hassan the 
Wag, with my salutation. Then take the Iman 
of the Mosque and the four Sheikhs and inflict 
upon each of them a thousand lashes. When 
thou hast done that, parade them through the 
city, mounted on beasts with their faces to 
the tails, and proclaim before them, ‘This is 
the punishment of those who annoy their neigh- 
bours!’ And beware of neglecting that which I 
have commanded thee to do.” 

So the Cadi did as he was ordered. And when 
Abul-Hassan had exercised his authority until 
the close of day, he commanded the chamber- 
lains and other attendants to depart. He then 
called a eunuch and said to him, “I am hungry.” 

The eunuch replied, “I hear and obey,” and 
led him by the hand into an eating-chamber, 
where attendants placed before him a table set 


78 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


with rich viands, and ten beautiful slave-girls 
stood behind him. 

Abul-Hassan, looking at one of these, said to 
her, “What is thy name?” 

She answered, “Branch of Willow.” 

“O Branch of Willow,’Vsaid he, “who am I?” 

“Thou art the Prince of the Faithful,” she an- 
swered. 

“Verily thou liest!” he said. “Ye girls are 
laughing at me!” Then he thought to himself, 
“No doubt these slave-girls are Genii, and my 
guest of ;last night is one of the Kings of the Ge- 
nii who hath rewarded me for my hospitality by 
ordering his Afrites to address me as the Prince 
of the Faithful. All these are Genii. May Allah 
deliver me happily from them!” 

And while he was thus talking to himself, lo, 
one of the slave-girls filled a cup with wine and 
threw into it a sleeping potion. She handed it to 
Abul-Hassan, and he drank and fell down sense- 
less. 

Er Raschid then ordered his attendants to con- 
vey Abul-Hassan to his house; and the servants 
did so, and laid him upon his bed, still in a state 
of insensibility. 

Later in the night Abul-Hassan awoke and 
found himself in the dark. He called out, “ Cluster 
of Pearls! Branch of Willow!” But no one an- 
swered him. His mother heard him shouting 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 


79 


these names, and arose and came in, and said, 
“O my son, what hath befallen thee? Art thou 
mad?’’ 

And when he heard the words of his mother, 
he said to her, “O ill-omened old woman, how 
darest thou address the Prince of the Faithful 
with such words?” 

She answered, “I am thy mother, O my son.” 

“Thou liest,” he replied, “I am the Prince of 
the Faithful, the lord of many countries and 
peoples.” 

“Be silent,” said she, “for if thou art overheard 
thy life will be lost!” And she began to recite 
charms over him, saying, “O my son, surely the 
devil hath suggested this idea to thee. But re- 
joice for I have something good to tell thee. 
Yesterday the Caliph gave orders to beat the 
Iman and the four Sheikhs for their impudent 
meddling; and he sent me a hundred pieces of 
gold, with his salutation.” 

And when Abul-Hassan heard this he uttered 
a loud cry, with which his soul almost quitted his 
body, and he exclaimed, “I am he who gave 
orders to beat the Iman and the Sheikhs, and who 
sent thee the hundred pieces of gold, with my 
salutation, and I am the Prince of the Faithful ! ” 

Having said this he rose up, and beat his mother 
with an almond-stick, until she cried out, “Help! 
Help, O Muslims!” And he beat her with in- 


80 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


creased violence until the neighbours heard her 
cries and came to her relief. And he was still beat- 
ing her, saying, “O ill-omened old woman, am not 
I the Prince of the Faithful?” 

When the people heard his words, they said, 
“This man is mad,” and they seized him, bound 
his hands behind him, and conveyed him to a 
madhouse. There every day they punished him, 
dosing him with disgusting medicines, and flog- 
ging him with whips, making him a madman in 
spite of himself. Thus he continued, stripped of 
his clothes, and chained by the neck to a high 
window, for the space of ten days. Then his 
mother came to him, and he told her all that had 
happened to him from first to last, saying, “Verily 
I must have dreamed it, and I beg forgiveness 
of Allah for all my sins!” His mother hearing 
this, took him from the madhouse, and conducted 
him to her home, where she fed him, and he re- 
covered his health. 

Not long after he walked to the bridge to seek 
a stranger for a cup-companion. And, lo, as he 
was sitting there Er Raschid came to him dis- 
guised as a merchant. 

As soon as Abul-Hassan saw him, he said, “A 
friendly welcome to thee, O King of the Genii! 
What terrible thing hast thou done to me? I have 
been beaten, and sent to a madhouse, and all have 
called me a madman. This was occasioned by 


81 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 

thee. I brought thee to my abode, and enter- 
tained thee with the best of my food, and after 
that thou gavest thy devils and Afrites power over 
me to make sport of me from morning to night. 
Depart from me, therefore, and go thy way.” 

The Caliph smiled at this, and, seating him- 
self by his side, said, “O my poor brother, tell 
me thy story.” And Abul-Hassan related all that 
had happened to him from first to last, while Er 
Raschid laughed, but concealed his laughter. 

Then said the Caliph, “Praise be to Allah that 
He hath protected thee from the evil, and that 
I now see thee again in prosperity.” 

But Abul-Hassan replied, “I will not again 
take thee as my boon-companion, nor sit at the 
same table with thee, for the proverb saith : — 
who stumbleth against a stone ^ and re^ 
turneih to it^ is to he blamed and reproached,^ 
Therefore with thee, O my brother, I will not 
keep company again since I have found thy visit 
to be followed by bad fortune.” 

The Caliph, however, said, “It was by my 
means that thou didst punish the Iman and the 
Sheikhs. Perhaps, if thou entertainest me once 
more, something will happen to rejoice thy heart. 
Permit me, therefore, to be thy guest this one 
night.” 

“I will make thee my guest,” said Abul-Has- 
san, “if thou wilt swear by the inscription on 


82 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


the seal of Solomon the son of David (on both of 
whom be peace!) that thou wilt not suffer thy 
Af rites to make sport of me.” 

And Er Raschid replied, ‘T hear and obey.” 

So Abul-Hassan took him to his abode, and 
put food before him and his attendants. And 
when the young man was not looking, the Caliph 
put a sleeping potion into his wine, and Abul- 
Hassan drank thereof and fell down insensible. 
The Caliph then arose and ordered his attendants 
to convey Abul-Hassan to the palace, and to lay 
him upon the royal couch. They did so, and the 
Caliph commanded the slave-girls to stand around 
him; after which he concealed himself in a place 
where Abul-Hassan could not see him, ordering 
a slave-girl to take her lute, and strike its chords 
over Abul-Hassan’s head, and desiring the other 
slave-girls to play upon their instruments. 

It was then the close of night, and Abul-Has- 
san awaking heard the sounds of lutes and tam- 
bourines and flutes, and the singing of the slave- 
girls. He cried out, “O my mother!” 

Whereupon the slave-girls answered, ‘‘At thy 
service, O Prince of the Faithful.” 

And when he heard this he exclaimed, “There 
is no strength nor power but in Allah the High, 
the Great!” And he thought of his mother, and 
of the madhouse, and of the beatings with whips, 
and of all that he had suffered. Then looking at 


ABUL-HASSAN THE WAG 


83 


the magnificence that surrounded him, and at 
all the attendants, he said to himself, “ These are 
Genii in the shape of human beings! I commit my 
affair unto Allah!” 

Then he called a memlook to his side, and said, 
“Bite my ear, that I may know whether I am 
asleep or awake.” 

The memlook replied, “How dare I bite thine 
ear, seeing that thou art the Prince of the Faith- 
ful?” 

“Do as I command thee,” said Abul-Hassan, 
“or I will strike off thy head!” 

So the memlook bit it until his teeth met to- 
gether, and Abul-Hassan uttered a loud shriek. 

Er Raschid who was behind a curtain, with 
all his attendants, fell down with laughter, and 
he said to the memlook, “Art thou mad, that 
thou bitest the ear of the Caliph?” 

And Abul-Hassan exclaimed, “Is it not enough 
that all this should have befallen me, O ye 
wretched Genii? But ye are not at fault, your 
chief is to blame who transformed you from 
Genii into human beings. I implore the help of 
the Koran against you!” 

Upon this Er Raschid exclaimed, “Thou hast 
killed us with laughter, O Abul-Hassan!” and he 
came forth from behind the curtain. And when 
Abul-Hassan beheld him in all his royal state, he 
recognized the Caliph, and kissed the ground be- 


84 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


fore him, greeting him with a prayer for the in- 
crease of his glory and the prolongation of his life. 

Er Baschid then clad him in a rich dress, gave 
him a thousand pieces of gold, and made him his 
chief boon-companion. Abul-Hassan after this 
became a greater favourite with the Caliph than 
all the other boon-companions, so that he sat with 
the Caliph and his wife the Lady Zobeide; and he 
married her female Treasurer, whose name was 
Nouzatalfuad. And with his wife he resided eat- 
ing and drinking and enjoying a delightful life, 
until they were visited by the Terminator of De- 
lights and the Separator of Companions. 

Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 

There was in ancient times, in the city of Bal- 
sora, a tailor who was fond of sport and merri- 
ment. One day he and his wife went forth in the 
afternoon to take a walk, and, returning home in 
the evening, they met a hunchbacked man whose 
appearance was such as to excite laughter in the 
most serious. They approached and invited him 
to go with them to their house and join in a feast 
that night. 

He accompanied them home, and the tailor 
went out to the market to buy some food for the 
feast. He bought fried fish and bread and limes 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 85 


and sweetmeats, and, returning home, placed the 
fish before the Hunchback. They all sat down to 
eat and the tailor’s wife, being in a merry mood, 
took a large piece of fish and crammed it down 
the Hunchback’s throat, saying: — 

“Don’t chew this, but swallow it at once!” 

The Hunchback swallowed it, and it contained 
a large, sharp bone that stuck in his throat, so 
that he instantly choked and died. 

When the tailor saw this he exclaimed, “Alas! 
Alas! What shall we do since this poor creature 
hath died in this manner in our house!” 

“Why dost thou sit there idle?” cried his wife. 
“Arise, take him in thine arms, and cover him 
with a silk napkin. I will go first, and do thou 
follow me, and we will carry him to a physician.” 

The tailor immediately arose and took the 
Hunchback in his arms, and his wife accompany- 
ing him, they proceeded through the streets in- 
quiring as they went for the house of a physician. 
The people directed them to the house of one who 
was a Jew. They knocked at the door and it was 
opened by a black slave-girl. When she saw what 
she thought was a father carrying a sick child 
in his arms, she hastened upstairs to call her 
master. 

While the girl was gone, the tailor’s wife, enter- 
ing the vestibule, said to her husband, “Leave 
the Hunchback here, and let us take ourselves 


86 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


away.” And the tailor accordingly set him up 
against the wall, and went out with his wife. 

The slave-girl meanwhile went in to the Jew, 
and said to him, “Master, hurry! for there is a 
sick person below waiting for medicine.” And the 
physician, rising in haste, went down in the dark 
and in doing so struck against the lifeless Hunch- 
back, who immediately fell down. 

“Alas! Alas!” exclaimed the physician, “I 
have stumbled against this sick man, and he hath 
fallen down the stairs and died!” And he raised 
the Hunchback and took him up to his wife and 
acquainted her with the accident. 

“Why dost thou sit there idle.^” cried she. 
“If this body is found at daybreak in our house, 
our lives will be lost ! Let us take him up to the 
terrace and throw him into the house of our 
neighbour the Muslim, who is the steward of the 
Sultan’s kitchen. The cats and dogs often come 
down the terrace into his house to eat the food 
they find there; perhaps they will eat this body 
too.” 

So the Jew and his wife carried the Hunchback 
to the top of the terrace, and let him down by 
his hands and feet into their neighbour’s court, 
placing him against the wall. This done they went 
to their own house. 

Not long afterward the steward returned and, 
opening the door of the court, found a man stand- 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 87 


ing against the wall next the kitchen. “What is 
this ! ” he exclaimed. “ Verily he is a thief who hath 
come down to steal the flesh and grease that I keep 
concealed from the cats and dogs!” So saying he 
took a mallet and struck the Hunchback two 
blows upon the chest, and the body immediately 
fell to the ground. 

When the steward perceived that the man was 
dead, he exclaimed: “Alas! Alas! Curse upon the 
grease and flesh, and upon this night!” And he 
lifted the Hunchback upon his shoulders, and 
going forth into the street carried him to the 
market-place, where he stood him on his feet 
by the side of a shop, and there left him and 
retired. 

Soon after there came a Christian merchant 
who was intoxicated. He advanced staggering 
toward the Hunchback. Now earlier in the even- 
ing some boys had snatched off the merchant’s 
turban, and when he saw the Hunchback stand- 
ing there he thought he was about to do the same 
thing, so he clenched his fist and struck him in the 
neck. Down fell the Hunchback to the ground, 
and the Christian began to beat him, crying out 
at the same time for the night-watchman. 

The watchman immediately came, and finding 
the Christian beating a Muslim and perceiving 
that the latter was dead, he was enraged and 
cried out, “How is it that a Christian dareth to 


88 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


kill a Musljim!” Then he seized the merchant, 
bound his hands behind his back, and took him to 
the house of the judge. 

“Alas! Alas!” said the Christian to himself: 
“How have l killed this man! How easily he died 
from a few blows!” Intoxication had departed 
and reflection come. 

The Hunchback and the Christian passed the 
remainder of the night in the house of the judge. 
And when the morning came the latter ordered 
the executioner to proclaim the Christian’s crime 
and set up the gallows. 

The executioner did so, and, having stationed 
the Christian beneath the gallows, threw the rope 
round his neck and was about to hang him, when 
the Sultan’s steward pushed through the crowd, 
and, seeing the Christian standing beneath the 
gallows, cried out to the executioner : — 

“Do not hang that man, for it was I who killed 
the Hunchback!” 

“Wherefore didst thou kill him?” asked the 
judge. 

“I went into my house last night,” answered 
the steward, “and found that he had descended 
the terrace and stolen my goods, so I struck him 
with a mallet upon his chest, and he died. I car- 
ried him out, and conveyed him to the market 
street where I set him up against a wall. Is it not 
enough for me to have killed a Muslim, that a 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 89 


Christian should be killed on my account? Hang 
then none but me.” 

The judge, when he heard these words, liberated 
the Christian merchant, and said to the execu- 
tioner, “Hang this man on the ground of his con- 
fession.” 

So the executioner took off the rope from the 
neck of the Christian, and put it round the neck 
of the steward, and, having stationed him beneath 
the gallows, was about to hang him, when the 
Jewish physician pushed his way through the 
crowd, and called out to the executioner : — 

“Do not hang that man, for none killed the 
Hunchback but I. He came to my house to be 
cured of a disease, and, as I went down the stairs, 
I struck him with my foot, and he fell down and 
died. Hang not the steward, therefore, but kill 
me.” 

So the judge gave orders to hang the Jewish 
physician, and the executioner took off the rope 
from the steward’s neck, and put it round the 
neck of the Jew. But, lo, the tailor forced his way 
through the crowd, and said to the executioner: — 

“Do not hang that man, for none killed the 
Hunchback but I. Last night I was returning to 
my house and I met the little man who was shak- 
ing a tambourine and singing merrily. I took him 
home with me, and bought some fish, and we sat 
down to eat. My wife took a piece of fish and 


90 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


crammed it into his mouth, and he choked and 
instantly died. Then she and I took him to the 
house of the Jewish physician; and while the 
slave-girl went to call her master, I set the Hunch- 
back up by the stairs, and went away with my 
wife. When the physician came down he stumbled 
against him, and thought he had killed him. So 
liberate the Jew and hang me.” 

The judge when he heard this was astonished, 
and said, “Verily this event should be recorded 
in books!” Then he said to the executioner, 
“Liberate the Jew, and hang the tailor on ac- 
count of his own confession.” 

So the executioner led the physician forward 
grumbling and saying, “Why dost thou say, 
‘Hang this one and release that one, and release 
this one and hang that one?’ Am I not to hang 
any?” 

Now, the Hunchback was the royal buffoon, 
and the Sultan could not bear him to be out of his 
sight. And when the Hunchback had been ab- 
sent that night and the next day until noon, the 
Sultan inquired for him. “ O our lord,” an- 
swered his attendants, “the judge hath found him 
dead, and hath given orders to hang the man who 
killed him; but, lo, there hath come a second and 
a third person each saying, ‘None killed him 
but I!’” 

When the Sultan heard this he called his cham- 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 91 


berlain and commanded him to bring the judge 
and all the men before his throne. The chamber- 
lain immediately went down and found that the 
executioner had almost put to death the tailor. 
So he called out, “Stop hanging that man!” and 
informed the judge of the Sultan’s command. 
And he took the judge and the Hunchback, and 
the tailor, and the Jew, and the Christian, and 
the steward, and went up with them all to the 
Sultan. And when they had come into the royal 
presence, the judge kissed the ground before the 
throne, and related all that had happened. And 
the Sultan was astonished and was moved with 
merriment at hearing this tale, and commanded 
that it should be written in letters of gold. 

Then he said to those who were present, “Have 
ye ever heard anything so wonderful as the story 
of this Hunchback? If so I will grant you your 
lives.” 

Upon this the Christian, the Jew, and the 
steward each advanced and told a story, which 
the Sultan having heard, said, “These are not 
more wonderful than the story of the Hunchback, 
therefore ye must be hanged all of you! especially 
this tailor who is the source of the mischief.” 
Then he added: “O tailor, if thou wilt tell me a 
story more wonderful than that of the Hunch- 
back, I will forgive all of you your offences.” 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


STORY TOLD BY THE TAILOR — THE YOUNG 
MAN AND THE BARBER 

So the tailor advanced, and said : — 

Know, O King of the Age, that what hath hap- 
pened to me is more wonderful than what hath 
happened to all the others. Yesterday morning, 
before I met this Hunchback, I was at an enter- 
tainment given to tailors and linen-drapers and 
carpenters and other tradesmen. At sunrise a 
repast was brought for us to eat, and, lo, the mas- 
ter of the house entered the room accompanied 
by a strange and handsome young man of the 
inhabitants of Bagdad. He was attired in magnifi- 
cent garments and was a most comely person 
except that he was lame. 

The young man saluted us and was about to 
seat himself when he observed among us a man 
who was a barber. Whereupon he refused to sit 
down and started to leave the room. We, and the 
master of the house, prevented him, and urged 
him to seat himself, saying, “What is the reason 
of thy entering and then departing so hastily?” 

“Verily, O my masters,” answered the young 
man, “the cause of my departing is this barber 
who is sitting with you.” 

The host hearing this was exceedingly sur- 
prised and said, “How is it, O young man from 
Bagdad, that thy heart is troubled by the pres- 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 93 

ence of this barber? Relate to us the cause of thy 
displeasure.” 

At this the young man said, “Know, O com- 
pany, that a surprising adventure happened to 
me with this barber in Bagdad, and he was the 
cause of my lameness; so I have sworn that I will 
not sit in any place where he is present, nor dwell 
in any town where he resides. I quitted Bagdad 
on his account, and I will not spend another night 
in this city!” 

Upon this we said to him, “We conjure thee by 
Allah to relate to us thy adventure with him.” 
And the countenance of the barber turned pale 
as he heard us make this request. 

The young man then said: — 

Know, O good people, that my father was one 
of the chief merchants of Bagdad, and Allah 
(Whose name be exalted!) blessed him with no 
other son but myself. When I had attained the 
age of manhood my father died leaving me his 
wealth and servants and houses. Whereupon I 
began to attire myself in the richest of garments 
and feed upon the most delicious of meats. I 
was, however, a woman-hater, and I continued 
to be such until one day, as I was walking in 
the streets of Bagdad, a party of women came 
toward me. I fled from them, and, entering a 
side street, sat down on a bench before a house. 

I had been seated but a short time, when, lo. 


94 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


a window in the house opposite was opened, and 
a damsel, as beautiful as the full moon, looked 
out. She watered some flowers beneath the win- 
dow, and looked to the right and left, and then 
shut the window and disappeared. Instantly Are 
seemed to enter my heart, and my hatred of 
women was turned into love, and I continued sit- 
ting in the same place until sunset, in a state of 
distraction; when, lo, the Cadi of the city came 
riding along, with slaves before him, and servants 
behind him, and he alighted and entered the 
house from which the damsel had looked out. So 
I knew that he must be her father. 

I returned to my house sorrowful, and fell upon 
my bed, and my slaves came and seated them- 
selves around me, not knowing what was the 
matter. My disorder increased and the neigh- 
bours came to cheer me with their visits. Among 
those who visited me was an old woman, who 
seated herself at my head and said in a kind man- 
ner, “O my son, tell me what hath happened to 
thee.” 

So I related to her my story, and she said: 
“Know, O my son, that this is the daughter of 
the Chief Cadi of Bagdad. The place where thou 
sawest her is her apartment, and her father oc- 
cupieth the large saloon below. I visit her often, 
and will obtain for thee an interview with her.” 

When I heard this I took courage, rejoiced, and 



INSTANTLY FIRE SEEMED TO ENTER MY HEART 





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STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 95 


rose up firm of limb, whereupon the old woman 
departed. 

Some days after this the old woman came again, 
and said, “Rejoice, O my son! Yesterday I went 
to the damsel and related to her thy story say- 
ing, ‘After he saw thee he took to his pillow, and 
seemed to be dying.’ At this she turned pale and 
was filled with pity and wept. Then saith she, 
‘Is this all on my account?’ ‘Yea, verily!’ I an- 
swered. ‘Go to him,’ saith she, ‘and convey to 
him my salutation, and tell him that my love is 
greater than his. On Friday next let him come 
hither at the time of the morning prayers. I will 
give orders for the door to be opened to him, and 
I will have a short interview with him. And he 
may leave before my father cometh back from 
prayers.’ ” 

When I heard the words of the old woman I was 
filled with joy, and my heart was set at rest. I 
gave her a rich suit of clothes, and she departed. 
And I awaited with impatience the coming of 
Friday. 

At last the day came, and I arose, and dressed, 
and perfumed myself, and said to a slave, “Boy, 
go to the market and bring me a barber who is a 
man of sense and of few words, so that he may not 
make my head ache by his chattering.” And the 
boy went and brought this Sheikh, who on enter- 
ing saluted me, saying: — 


96 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“May Allah dispel thy grief and thine anxiety 
and misfortunes and sorrows!” 

I responded, “May Allah accept thy prayers.” 

He then said, “Be cheerful, O my master, for 
health hath returned to thee with my coming! 
Dost thou desire to be shaved or bled?” 

“Abstain,” said I, “from this useless discourse, 
and shave my head immediately for I am 
weak.” 

He arose and took out a handkerchief from his 
bosom, and opened it, and, lo, there was in it an 
astrolabe. He took it, and went to the door, where 
he stood looking at the sun for a considerable 
time; then he said to me: — 

“Know that this day, which is Friday, is the 
tenth of the month Safar of the year 263 of the 
Flight of the Prophet, — upon whom be the most 
excellent of blessings and peace! — and the as- 
cendant star of this day, according to the rules 
of astrology, is the planet Mars; and it happeneth 
that Mercury hath come in conjunction with that 
planet, and this indicateth that the shaving of hair 
is now a most fortunate thing.” 

“Verily,” I exclaimed, “ thou weariest me 
with thy senseless chatter! Cease speaking and 
shave my head.” 

But he replied, “If thou knewest the truth 
of the case thou wouldst demand me to explain 
more! I would that I could serve thee for a whole 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 97 

year that thou mightest do me justice! I desire 
no pay for so doing.” 

When I heard this I said, “Verily thou art 
killing me this day! There is no escape for me!” 

“O my master,” he answered, “I am he whom 
the people call El Samit, the Silent One, on ac- 
count of the shortness of my speech, by which I am 
distinguished above my brothers. For my eldest 
brother is named Bacbouc the Chatterer; and the 
second, Heddar the Talkative; and the third, 
Bacbac the Prater; and the fourth is named Al- 
couz the Open-Mouth; and my two other brothers 
are named Alraschar and Shacabac; and the 
seventh brother is named The Silent One, and he 
is myself!” 

Now, when the barber had thus overwhelmed 
me with his talk, I was filled with impatience, and 
said to the boy, “Give this man a quarter of a 
piece of gold and bid him depart immediately.” 

But the barber hearing this exclaimed, “Verily 
I will accept no pay from thee unless I shave thee 
first ! Thy father, — may Allah have mercy upon 
him! — treated me with great generosity. Verily 
thy father sent for me one day, — a blessed day 
like this! When I entered his room he had a 
number of friends with him, and he said to me, 
‘Bleed me.’ So I took my astrolabe and observed 
the sun and found the hour to be of evil omen, and 
that bleeding would be attended with misfortune. 


98 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


I therefore acquainted him with this, and he 
awaited the arrival of a more fortunate hour, 
when I bled him. For this he thanked me, and 
all the company present thanked me. And thy 
father gave me a hundred pieces of gold.” 

“May Allah,” exclaimed I, “show no mercy to 
my father for knowing such a man as thou!” 

At this the barber laughed and replied, “Verily 
thy illness causeth thee to speak nonsense! Verily 
I would know the cause of thy haste! Thy father 
used to do nothing without consulting me, and 
thou wilt find no one better acquainted with the 
ways of the world than myself. Therefore con- 
fide in me and I will advise thee.” 

Hearing this I gave vent to my rage and cried 
out, “Shave me and depart from me!” And I 
would have risen, but he wetted my head and 
said : — 

“I will not be angry with thee for thy brain is 
weak, and thou art but a youth ! A short time ago 
I used to carry thee on my shoulder to school.” 

Then I rent my clothes, and when he saw me do 
this he took the razor, and sharpened it for so 
long a time that my soul almost parted from my 
body. Then advancing he shaved a small portion 
of my head, after which he lifted his hand and 
said : — 

“O my lord, haste is from the devil! And of 
such a one as myself hath the poet said : — 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 99 


“ * The trades are like a necklace of 'pearls, and this harher is 
the chief pearl of the strings / 

He excelleth all others in skill, and under his hands are the heads 
of Kings I ’ 

“I fancy,” continued he, “that thou art in 
haste; but proceed slowly, for haste is from the 
devil! I fear thy affair is an evil one, therefore 
acquaint me with it so that I may advise thee.” 

There now remained but three hours before the 
time appointed for me to meet the damsel, and 
the barber suddenly threw the razor down in an- 
ger, and taking the astrolabe went again to ob- 
serve the sun. After some time he returned to me 
and took the razor and, sharpening it for a long 
while as he had done before, began to shave 
another portion of my head, then stopping he 
said : — 

‘T am worried on account of thy hurry. If thou 
wilt tell me the cause it will be better for thee. 
Know that thy father used to do nothing without 
consulting me.” 

I perceived how the time was passing swiftly 
and that I could not get rid of him by commands, 
so I said to him, “ Be quick and cease from this 
chattering and impertinence! Shave me, and I 
will give thee five dishes of meat, and ten frican- 
doed fowls, and a roast lamb.” 

“Cause them to be brought here,” said he, “so 
that I may see them.” 


100 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


So I had them brought before him, and he ex- 
claimed, “How generous is thy soul! But the in- 
cense and perfumes are wanting.” 

I thereupon commanded the servants and they 
brought him a box containing aloes-wood and 
ambergris and musk, worth fifty pieces of gold. 
Whereupon the barber threw down the astrolabe 
and, seating himself on the floor, opened the box 
and turned over the perfumes and incense until 
my soul almost quitted my body. 

He then advanced, took the razor, and shaved 
another small portion of my head, after which he 
stopped and began to talk and chatter as before, 
saying, “It is my desire to aid thee in this thy 
affair, therefore I will not leave thee but will at- 
tend thee this day.” 

To this I said, “Verily the place to which I am 
going none can enter except myself.” 

“I suppose then,” he rejoined, “that thou hast 
an appointment with a damsel. Verily I will as- 
sist thee to attain thy desire, otherwise without 
my help thy life may be lost seeing that this is the 
city of Bagdad, and that the Chief Cadi hath a 
terrible, sharp sword.” 

“Woe to thee! O wicked old man!” I ex- 
claimed, “how darest thou address me thus?” 
And upon this he kept a long silence. 

The time of prayer had arrived when he had 
finished shaving my head, and I gave him the 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 101 


food and the box, and dismissed him. He took 
them, and, giving them to a porter to convey to 
his abode, concealed himself in a by-street. I 
then immediately arose and went forth alone, and 
stopped at the house of the damsel; and, lo, the 
barber was behind me and I knew it not. 

I found the door open, and entered; and im- 
mediately the master of the house returned from 
prayers, and, entering the saloon, closed the door. 
Thereupon I hid myself in haste. Now it hap- 
pened just at this time that a slave-girl belonging 
to the Cadi committed some offence and he began 
to beat her and she cried out. Then a male slave 
came in to rescue her, and the Cadi beat him and 
he cried out also. The barber standing in the 
street heard this and thought that the Cadi was 
beating me; so he screamed and rent his clothes, 
and sprinkled dust upon his head, shrieking and 
calling for assistance. 

He was immediately surrounded by a crowd of 
people, and he said to them, ‘‘My master is being 
killed in the house of the Cadi.” Then running to 
my house, crying out all the time, and with a 
crowd behind him, he gave the news to my serv- 
ants. They all came forth and followed him 
shrieking, the barber shrieking at their head, and 
all of them crying, “O our master! Alas he is 
slain 1 ” 

Thus they advanced to the house of the Cadi, 


102 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


who, hearing the disturbance, arose and opened 
the door. Seeing such a great crowd he was con- 
founded, and said, “O people, what is the mat- 
ter?” 

“Thou hast beaten our master with staves,” 
answered the barber, “ and I heard his cries.” 

“What hath he done that I should kill him?” 
asked the Cadi. “And whence came he, and 
whither would he go?” 

“Thou malevolent old man!” exclaimed the 
barber, “I know all about it, and the reason of 
his entering thy house! Thy daughter is in love 
with him, and he with her. Thou hast discovered 
him in thy house, and hast ordered thy young 
men to beat him. Bring him forth immediately 
and deliver him safely to us; or, verily, none shall 
decide this except the Caliph! Haste, then, to 
produce him.” 

The Cadi hearing these words was utterly 
abashed before the people, but presently he said 
to the barber, “If thou speak the truth, enter 
thyself and bring him forth.” 

So the barber entered the house, and I, hear- 
ing him coming, sought some way to escape, but 
found no place of refuge except a large chest in 
the saloon in which I was. I therefore entered 
this and shut down the lid, and held my breath. 

The barber ran into the saloon, and, seeing the 
chest, came directly toward it. He raised it upon 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 103 


his head, whereupon my reason forsook me. He 
carried the chest toward the street door, and I, 
not wishing to be conveyed after this manner 
through the city, opened the lid and threw myself 
upon the ground. My leg was broken by the fall, 
and I rose up and came to the door of the house 
where I found a multitude of people waiting to 
see me. I scattered gold among them to divert 
them, and while they were picking it up, I has- 
tened through the by-streets of Bagdad followed 
by this barber, who cried after me : — 

“Praise be to Allah who hath permitted me to 
rescue thee from the hands of the Cadi! Be not 
angry, O my master, because thine evil act hath 
brought upon thee this misfortune! If Allah had 
not blessed me, verily thou wouldst never have 
escaped! Beg therefore of Allah that I may live 
for thy sake to liberate thee in the future. Verily 
I am not offended at thee because thou seekest to 
escape me now, for thou hast little sense and a 
hasty disposition.” 

“O wicked old man,” I cried, “art thou not 
satisfied with all thou hast done to me, but that 
thou must run through the streets after me?” 

And I desired for death to liberate me from 
him, but I found it not. In the excess of my rage 
I ran from him and, entering a shop, implored the 
owner to protect me, and he drove the barber 
away. 


104 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


After that I decided to rid myself of the barber 
and never see his face again, so I sold all my goods 
and settled my affairs, and set forth on a journey 
to escape this wretch. I then arrived in your 
country where I took up my abode, and have re- 
mained here a considerable time. And now I 
come unto you and see this vile wretch among 
you, seated at the other end of the room. How 
then can my heart be at ease with this fellow 
present who hath brought this misfortune upon 
me and been the cause of my breaking my leg.^ 
Then the young man still insisted on not re- 
maining with us, and we said to the barber, “Is 
this true which the young man hath said of thee.^ ” 
“Verily,” he answered, “it was through my 
wisdom that I acted thus toward him. Had I not 
done so he had perished! It was through the 
goodness of Allah, by my means, that he broke 
his leg, instead of being killed. Were I a person 
of many words I had not done him this kindness. 
Now I will relate to you an event that happened 
to me so that you may know me to be a man of 
few words and that I am less impertinent than my 
brothers. And it happened thus : — ” 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 105 


STORY TOLD BY THE BARBER — THE 
BEHEADED TEN 

I was living in Bagdad in the reign of the 
Prince of the Faithful Mountasir Billah, who 
loved the poor, and associated with the learned 
and virtuous. It happened one day that he was 
incensed against ten men whom he ordered the 
Chief Cadi of Bagdad to bring to him in a 
boat. 

I saw them as they were about to embark, and 
I said to myself, “These people are going on a 
pleasure excursion, and none shall be their com- 
panion but myself.” 

So I embarked with them, and when they 
landed on the opposite bank the guards of the 
Cadi came with chains and put them upon the 
necks of the ten, and put a chain on my neck also. 
— Now is not this, O people, a proof of the few- 
ness of my words for I determined not to speak. 

They took us all together in chains and placed 
us before Mountasir Billah the Prince of the 
Faithful. Whereupon he gave orders to strike 
off the heads of the ten. 

The executioner struck off the heads of the ten 
and I remained. 

The Caliph seeing me said to the executioner, 
“Wherefore dost thou not strike off the heads of 
all the ten?” 


106 THE JOLLY BOOK 

He answered, “I have beheaded every one of 
the ten.” 

“I do not think,” rejoined the Caliph, “that 
thou hast beheaded more than nine. This man 
before me is the tenth.” 

“By thy benevolence,” the executioner re- 
plied, “ they are ten.” 

“Count the heads,” said the Caliph. 

The executioner did so, and, lo, there were ten 
heads. 

The Caliph then looked toward me and said, 
“Why hast thou been silent on this occasion.?^ 
How didst thou come among these men of blood?” 

And when I heard the words of the Prince of 
the Faithful, I said to him, “Know, O King of 
the Age, that I am the Sheikh called El Samit the 
Silent One. I am acquainted with all the sciences, 
I am grave of understanding, quick of compre- 
hension, and few of words. My trade is that of a 
barber. And when I saw these ten men proceeding 
to the boat I mixed with them and embarked, 
thinking that they were a pleasure-party. But 
soon it appeared they were criminals, and the 
guards came and put chains upon their necks, 
and upon my neck they also put a chain. From 
the excess of my wisdom I was silent, and spoke 
not. They proceeded with us until they stationed 
us before thee, and thou gavest the order to strike 
off the heads of the ten, and I remained silent 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 107 


before the executioner. Was this not great wis- 
dom and generosity which compelled me to 
accompany these men to the slaughter But 
throughout my life I have acted in this excellent 
manner.’’ 

When the Caliph heard my words he knew I 
was of a wise and generous disposition, and of few 
words, and not inclined to impertinence as is this 
young man whom I delivered from horrors. 

“Hast thou any brothers,” asked the Caliph, 
“distinguished like thyseK for knowledge of the 
sciences, wisdom, and fewness of words 

“Yes,” I answered, “I have six brothers but 
they are not like me. Indeed thou insultest me by 
suggesting such a thing, O Prince of the Faithful. 
It is not proper that thou shouldst compare my 
brothers to me, for they talk much and are un- 
generous. And each of them hath a defect. The 
first is lame; the second, deaf; the third, blind; 
the fourth, one-eyed; the fifth, cropped of his 
ears; and the sixth hath both his lips cut off. 
And each of them hath met with wonderful ad- 
ventures; and I will now relate to thee two of 
these adventures which happened to two of my 
brothers, so thou mayest see that they are not 
so wise as I am.” 


108 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


STORY TOLD BY THE BARBER — THE TRAY 
OF GLASS 

My fifth brother, Alraschar, was cropped of 
his ears, O Prince of the Faithful. He was a 
pauper who begged for alms at night and lived by 
day on what he got. Our father was a very old 
man, and he fell sick and died, leaving us seven 
hundred pieces of silver, of which each of us took 
his portion, namely one hundred pieces. 

Now my fifth brother when he received his 
share bought all sorts of articles of glass with his 
one hundred pieces. He put them on a large tray, 
and, seating himself upon some steps in the mar- 
ket-place, he placed the tray before him, and 
displayed his wares to the passers-by. 

And as he sat, he meditated and said within 
himself, “Verily my whole stock consisteth of 
this glass. I will sell it for two hundred pieces of 
silver, and with the two hundred pieces I will buy 
other glass, which I will sell for four hundred. 
Thus I will continue buying and selling until I 
have acquired great wealth. Then with this will 
I purchase all kinds of merchandise and essences 
and jewels, and sell them and so obtain vast gain. 
After that I will buy a handsome house, and 
memlooks and horses and gilded saddles; and I 
will eat and drink.’’ All this he calculated from 
the tray of glass lying before him. 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 109 


Then said he, “I will demand as my wife the 
daughter of the Grand Vizier for I have heard 
that she is very beautiful. I will give as her 
dowry a thousand pieces of gold. I will buy ten 
eunuchs and I will purchase apparel fit for Kings 
and Sultans, and will cause to be made for me a 
saddle of red gold set with jewels. After which I 
will ride every day upon a horse with slaves be- 
hind me and before me, and the people will salute 
me as I pass through the streets. 

‘‘Then I will pay a visit to the Grand Vizier, 
the father of the damsel, with memlooks behind 
and before me. And when the Grand Vizier seeth 
me he will rise in humility and seat me in his own 
place. I will then order a slave to bring the purse 
which contains the gold pieces for the dowry, and 
he will place it before the Vizier, and I will add to 
it another purse to show my manly spirit and ex- 
cessive generosity. When the Vizier addresseth 
me with ten words, I will answer him with two, 
and if he giveth me a present I will not accept it 
but* retiu-n it. 

“On the night of the bridal I will attire 
myself in the most magnificent of my robes, and 
seat myseK on a couch covered with silk. When 
my bride cometh to me as beautiful as the full 
moon, and decked with rich ornaments and ap- 
parel, I will command her to stand before me 
timid and abject. I will not look at her, but turn 


110 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


my head haughtily away. Her damsels will say, 
‘O our master and lord, this is thy wife, or rather 
thy handmaid. She awaiteth thy kind regard and 
is standing before thee. Then graciously bestow 
on her one glance.’ Upon this I will bestow upon 
her one glance, and again turn my head away. 

“Thereupon her mother will come to me, and 
will kiss my hands and say, ‘O my master, look 
upon thy handmaid with the eye of mercy! She 
is submissively standing before thee.’ But I will 
return no answer. And her mother will kiss my 
feet again and again, saying, ‘O my master, my 
daughter is young, and if thou scorn her it will 
break her heart. Speak to her gently and calm 
her mind.’ On this I will look at the bride out of 
the corner of my eye, and command her to remain 
standing before me with all humility, that she 
may know that I am the Sultan of the Age! 

“Then her mother will order her to fill a cup 
with wine and put it to my lips. The bride will do 
so, saying, ‘O my lord, reject not this cup from 
thy slave!’ But I will make her no answer, and 
she will urge me to take it, and will put it to my 
mouth; and upon this I will shake my hand in her 
face and spurn her with my foot — thus — So 
saying my brother kicked the tray of glass that 
stood before him, and it fell down the steps, and 
all the glass was broken. And when he saw this 
he cried out, and said, “Alas! Alas! This is the 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 111 


result of my pride!” And he slapped his face and 
tore his clothes. And the passers-by gazed at him 
while he wept and exclaimed, “Ah! O my grief!” 

The people were going to attend Friday pray- 
ers, and while he was sitting there in this state, 
deprived of his property and weeping violently, 
a damsel approached him on her way to prayers. 
She was exceedingly beautiful ; the odour of musk 
was diffused from her garments, and she rode 
upon a mule on which was a saddle of gold-em- 
broidered silk, and with her were a number of 
servants. 

When she saw the broken glass and my broth- 
er’s miserable state and his tears, she was moved 
with pity for him and, taking forth a purse, called 
to one of the servants, saying, “ Give this to the 
poor man.” The servant did so, and my brother, 
opening the purse, found in it five hundred pieces 
of gold. Whereupon he almost died from excessive 
joy, and offering up prayers for his benefactress, 
he returned home happy. 

STORY TOLD BY THE BARBER — THE BARME- 
CmE FEAST 

My sixth brother, Shacabac, O Prince of the 
Faithful, had his lips cut off. He was very poor, 
possessing none of this world’s goods; and he 
went forth one day to find some food with which 
to stay his departing spirit. He beheld, in a cer- 


112 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


tain street, a handsome house with a wide and 
lofty porch, at the door of which stood a num- 
ber of servants commanding and forbidding. 

My brother inquired to whom the house be- 
longed, and a servant answered, “This mansion 
belongeth to a son of the Barmecides.” My 
brother thereupon begged the servant to give him 
something to eat, and the doorkeeper said, “En- 
ter, and ask our master for what thou desirest.” 

So my brother entered the house and walked 
through various apartments until he arrived at an 
inner court, which was a garden spacious and 
beautiful. Its floors were paved with marble, and 
curtains were hanging on its walls. As he ad- 
vanced toward the upper part of the garden, he 
beheld there a handsome man with a beard, who, 
on seeing my brother, rose to greet him, and 
asked him what he desired in that place. 

My brother told him that he was in want, and 
when the master of the house heard this, he 
showed great grief and tearing his garments ex- 
claimed, “Am I in this city, and thou in it hun- 
gry! This is a thing that I cannot endure! Thou 
must stay and presently partake of my salt.” 

But my brother answered, “O my master, I 
cannot wait long for food, because I am extremely 
hungry!” 

Upon this the master of the house called out, 
“Boy, bring a basin and a ewer!” and he said to 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 113 


my brother, “O my guest, advance and wash thy 
hands.” The master then made motions as if he 
were washing his hands, and called to his attend- 
ants to bring a table. Whereupon the slaves be- 
gan to come and go as though they were preparing 
a meal. 

After this the master of the house took my 
brother and sat down with him at an imaginary 
table, and proceeded to move his hands and lips 
as if he were eating, saying to my brother, “Eat, 
and observe how white and sweet this bread is.” 

To this my brother at first made no reply, but 
said to himself, “Verily this man loveth to jest:” 
— then he said aloud, “O my master, I have 
never in all my life seen bread more beautifully 
white or of sweeter taste!” 

On this the master of the house said, “It was 
made by a slave-girl of mine whom I purchased 
for five hundred pieces of gold.” He then called 
out, “Boy, bring cooked meats, the like of which 
is not found in the palaces of Kings!” and ad- 
dressing my brother he said, “Eat, O my guest, 
for thou art hungry.” So my brother began to 
twist his mouth and to chew as if eating. 

The master of the house now proceeded to de- 
mand all sorts of viands one after the other, and 
though nothing was brought he continued urging 
my brother to eat. Next he called out, “Boy, 
bring the chickens stuffed with pistachio-nuts,” 


114 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


and said, “O my guest, eat of this for thou hast 
never tasted the like!” 

“O my master,” answered my brother, “verily 
every dish hath not its equal in sweetness and 
flavour.” 

The host thereupon began to put his hand to 
my brother’s mouth as if he were feeding him 
morsels, at the same time describing the delicious 
food which he pretended to feed him. Meanwhile 
my brother’s hunger so increased that he longed 
for a cake of barley bread. At last my brother 
said, “I have eaten enough meats,” and the host 
called to his attendants to bring the sweets, and 
they moved their hands about in the air as though 
they were bringing them. “Eat, O my friend,” 
said the host; “take this one before the sirup runs 
out.” And all this time my brother was rolling 
his tongue about his mouth as if he were enjoying 
the sweets. 

After this the master of the house called out, 
“Bring the dried fruits,” — and again the at- 
tendants moved their hands about in the air as 
though doing what he ordered. “Eat of these 
almonds,” said he to my brother, “and of these 
walnuts and of these raisins,” and he mentioned 
various kinds of dried fruits and nuts. 

“O my master,” replied my brother, “I have 
had enough, and can eat no more,” — but the 
host rejoined, “O my guest, eat more! delight 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 115 


thyself with these extraordinary dainties! Re- 
main not hungry.” 

My brother now reflected upon his situation, 
and on the way the man jested with him, mocking 
his hunger, and he said to himself, “Verily I will 
make him repent of these doings 1 ” 

The master of the house now said to his at- 
tendants, “Bring us the wine,” — and as before 
they made motions in the air, after which he pre- 
tended to hand my brother a cup, saying, “Take 
this wine, for it will delight thee!” and his guest 
replied, “O my master, thou art too generous!” 
and my brother acted as though he were drinking 
it. And then the master of the house pretended to 
drink himself, and handed a second cup to his 
guest. 

Now after my brother had affected to drink the 
second cup of wine, he feigned himself intoxi- 
cated, and, suddenly raising his hand, struck his 
host a hard blow in the neck, and this he followed 
by a second blow that made the chamber ring. 
Whereupon the host cried out, “What is this 
thou doest, thou vilest of creatures!” 

“O my master,” answered my brother humbly, 
“I am thy slave upon whom thou hast graciously 
bestowed old wine until I have become intoxi- 
cated. But surely thou art of too exalted a dig- 
nity to be angry with me for what is done under 
the influence of wine!” 


116 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


When the master of the house heard these 
words of my brother, he laughed aloud, and said 
to him, “Verily for a long time have I made game 
of men after this manner, but I have never seen 
one before who could enter into the jest as thou 
hast done. Now, therefore pardon me, and be my 
guest and friend forever.” 

He then gave orders for a feast to be spread, 
and he and my brother ate to satisfaction, after 
which they removed to a chamber where slave- 
girls as beautiful as so many moons sang all kinds 
of melodies and played on many musical instru- 
ments. And after that the master of the house 
treated my brother as a familiar friend, and be- 
came greatly attached to him and clad him in a 
costly dress. 

On the following morning they resumed their 
feasting, and thus they continued to live together 
for the period of twenty years, when the man 
died, and the Sultan seized upon his property and 
took possession of it. These then are the stories 
of my fifth and sixth brothers. 

And, continued the barber, when the Prince of 
the Faithful, Mountasir Billah, heard my words, 
and all that I had related to him, he laughed and 
said, “Thou hast spoken the truth, O El Samit the 
Silent One! Thou art surely a man of few words, 
and not at all impertinent; now however, depart 
from this city, and take up thy abode in an- 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 117 


other.” So he banished me from Bagdad. And I 
journeyed through various countries, and trav- 
ersed many regions, until I heard of his death and 
of the succession of another Caliph; when, having 
returned to my city, I met with this young man 
unto whom I did the best of deeds, who, had it 
not been for me, would have been slain, yet he 
hath accused me of things that are not in my na- 
ture! For all that he hath said of me, that I am 
impertinent, and of many words, and stupid, is 
false, O people! 

CONTINUATION OF THE STORY TOLD BY THE 
TAILOR — THE YOUNG MAN AND THE BARBER j 

The tailor then proceeded thus : — 

When we had heard the story of the barber, 
and were convinced that he was impertinent 
and talkative, and that he had treated the young 
man unjustly, we seized hold of him and placed 
him in confinement. After that the company re- 
mained together until time for afternoon pray- 
ers, when I went forth and hurried home. After 
which I took my wife for a walk, and as we were 
returning in the evening we met this Hunchback 
singing and repeating verses, upon which I in- 
vited him to come to my house, and he did. 

I then went out to buy food, and returned, and 
we sat down to eat. My wife took a piece of fish, 
and put it into the Hunchback’s mouth, and he 


118 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


choked and fell down dead. Whereupon I took 
him up, and contrived to leave him in the house 
of this physician, and he contrived to throw him 
into the house of the steward, and the steward 
contrived to throw him in the way of the Chris- 
tian merchant. This is the story of what hap- 
pened to me yesterday. Is it not more wonderful 
than that of the Hunchback.^ 

CONCLUSION OF THE STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 

When the Sultan heard this story, he ordered 
his chamberlain to go with the tailor and fetch the 
barber so that he might hear him talk. The cham- 
berlain and the tailor soon came back bringing 
the barber with them, and they placed him before 
the Sultan. 

And when the Sultan beheld him, he saw him to 
be an old man over ninety years of age, with dark 
skin, white eyebrows, small ears, and long nose, 
and of a haughty aspect. The Sultan laughed at 
the sight of him, and said, “O Silent One, I 
desire thee to relate to us some of thy stories.” 

“O King of the Age,” replied the barber, “ first 
tell me what is the occasion of the presence of this 
Christian, this Jew, and this Muslim, and this 
Hunchback lying dead among you. What is the 
reason of this assembly?” 

“Wherefore dost thou ask?” said the Sultan. 

The barber answered, “I ask it that the King 


STORY OF THE HUNCHBACK 119 


may know that I am not an impertinent fellow, 
nor do I meddle with what doth not concern me, 
and that I am free from the loquacity of which 
they accuse me. I am most fortunate in my name, 
for they call me El Samit the Silent One! ” 

The Sultan thereupon said to his attendants, 
“Explain to the barber the case of the Hunch- 
back and what happened to him yesterday even- 
ing, and tell him also the adventures of the 
Christian, and the Jew, and the steward, and the 
tailor.” So they told him the stories of all these 
persons. 

The barber shook his head, saying, “Verily this 
is a wonderful thing! Uncover the Hunchback 
so that I may examine him.” — And they did so. 

He then seated himself on the floor, and, taking 
the Hunchback’s head in his lap, looked in his 
face, and laughed so violently that he fell back- 
wards, exclaiming. “For every death there is a 
cause! and the death of this Hunchback is most 
wonderful! It is worthy to be recorded in the 
royal records!” And so saying he drew from his 
bosom a pot of ointment and anointed the neck 
of the Hunchback. Then he took forth a pair of 
iron pincers, and put them down his throat and 
pulled out the piece of fish with its bone. 

The Hunchback now sprang to his feet, 
sneezed and recovered consciousness. And all 
who were present were astonished at the sight. 


120 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


and the Sultan laughed until he became insensi- 
ble, as did also the other spectators. 

The Sultan exclaimed, “Verily this accident is 
wonderful! I have never witnessed anything 
more strange! O Muslims! O assembly of sol- 
diers! have ye ever in the course of your lives 
seen any one die and after that come to life? But 
had not Allah blessed him with this barber, the 
Hunchback had to-day been numbered among 
the people of the other world; for the barber hath 
been the means of restoring him to life.” 

And all the people assembled replied, “This is 
indeed wonderful!” 

The Sultan then gave orders to record this 
event, and, when they had done so, to place it in 
the royal library. He bestowed dresses of honour 
upon the Jew and the Christian and the steward. 
The tailor he appointed to be his own tailor, grant- 
ing him an allowance, and reconciling him and 
the Hunchback with each other. The Hunchback 
he honoured with a rich and beautiful dress, and 
with a similar allowance, and appointed him his 
cup-companion. Upon the barber he also be- 
stowed like favours, and appointed him state- 
barber, and his own cup-companion, and a fixed 
salary. So they all lived in the utmost happiness 
and comfort until they were visited by the Termi- 
nator of Delights, and the Separator of Friends. 

Arabian Nights* Entertainments, 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 121 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 


AN INTERLUDE 
Dramatis Personcs 


Leonato, Governor of Messina. 


A Sexton. 

1st Watchman. 
2nd Watchman. 



Scene I. A street. 


Enter Dogberry, Verges, 1st Watchman, and 2nd 


Watchman 


Dogberry. [To the Watchmen.] Are you good 
men and true? 

Verges. Yea, or else it were pity but they 
should suffer salvation, body and soul. 

Dogberry. Nay, that were a punishment too 
good for them, if they should have any allegiance 
in them, being chosen for the Prince’s watch. 

Verges. Well, give them their charge, neigh- 
bour Dogberry. 

Dogberry. First, who think you the most de- 
sartless man to be constable? 

1st Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Sea- 
cole; for they can write and read. 

Dogberry. Come hither, neighbour Seacole. 
God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


122 

well-favoured man is the gift of Fortune; but to 
write and read comes by Nature. 

^nd Watch, Both which, master constable, — 

Dogberry, You have: I knew it would be your 
answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God 
thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your 
writing and reading, let that appear when there 
is no need of such vanity. You are thought here 
to be the most senseless and fit man for the con- 
stable of the watch; therefore bear you the lan- 
tern. This is your charge: you shall comprehend 
all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in 
the Prince’s name. 

2nd Watch, How if a’^ will not stand? 

Dogberry, W^hy, then, take no note of him, but 
let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch 
together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. 

Verges, If he will not stand when he is bidden, 
he is none of the Prince’s subjects. 

Dogberry. True, and they are to meddle with 
none but the Prince’s subjects. — You shall also 
make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to 
babble and to talk, is most tolerable, and not to 
be endured. 

Watch. Vfe will rather sleep than talk: we 
know what belongs to a Watch. 

Dogberry. Why, you speak like an ancient and 
most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleep- 
1 He. 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 123 


ing should offend : only, have a care that your bills 
be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the ale- 
houses, and bid them that are drunk get them to 
bed. 

Watch, How if they will not? 

Dogberry. Why, then, let them alone till they 
are sober: if they make you not then the better 
answer, you may say they are not the men you 
took them for. 

Watch, Well, sir. 

Dogberry. If you meet a thief, you may sus- 
pect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true 
man; and, for such kind of men, the less you med- 
dle or make with them, why, the more is for your 
honesty. 

Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we 
not lay hands on him? 

Dogberry. Truly, by your office, you may; but I 
think they that touch pitch will be defiled: the 
most peaceable way for you, if you do take a 
thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and 
steal out of your company. 

Verges. You have been always called a merci- 
ful man, partner. 

Dogberry. Truly, I would not hang a dog by 
my will, much more a man who hath any honesty 
in him. 

Verges. If you hear a child cry in the night, you 
must call to the nurse and bid her still it. 


124 THE JOLLY BOOK 

Watch, How if the nurse be asleep and will not 
hear us? 

Dogberry, Why, then, depart in peace, and let 
the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that 
will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never 
answer a calf when he bleats. 

Verges, ’T is very true. 

Dogberry, This is the end of the charge: — 
you, constable, are to present the Prince’s own 
person: if you meet the Prince in the night, you 
may stay him. 

Verges, Nay, by ’r lady, that I think a’ cannot. 

Dogberry, Five shillings to one on’t, with any 
man that knows the statues, he may stay him: 
marry, not without the Prince be willing; for, in- 
deed, the Watch ought to offend no man; and it is 
an offence to stay a man against his will. 

Verges, By ’r lady, I think it be so. 

Dogberry, Ha, ah, ha! — Well, masters, good- 
night: and there be any matter of weight chances, 
call up me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your 
own; and good-night. — Come, neighbour. 

Watch, Well, masters, we hear our charge: let 
us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, 
and then all to bed. 

Dogberry, Adieu: be vigitant, I beseech you. 

[Exeunt Dogberry and Verges. 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 125 


Enter Borachio and Conrade. 

Borachio. What, Conrade. 

Watch. [Aside.] Peace! stir not. 

Borachio. Conrade, I say! 

Conrade. Here, man; I am at thy elbow. 

Borachio. Mass, and my elbow itched; I 
thought there would a scab follow. 

Conrade. I will owe thee an answer for that: 
and now forward with thy tale. 

Borachio. Stand thee close, then, under this 
pent-house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a 
true drunkard, utter all to thee. 

Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, masters: yet 
stand close. 

Borachio. Therefore know I have earned of 
Don John a thousand ducats. 

Conrade. Is it possible that any villany should 
be so dear? 

Borachio. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were 
possible any villany should be so rich; for when 
rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones 
may make what price they will. 

Conrade. I wonder at it. 

Borachio. That shows thou art unconfirmed. 
Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a 
hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. 

Conrade. Yes, it is apparel. 

Borachio. I mean, the fashion. 


126 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Conrade, Yes, the fashion is the fashion. 

Borachio, Tush! I may as well say the fool’s 
the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed 
thief this fashion is? 

Watch. [Aside.] I know that Deformed; a’ has 
been a vile thief this seven year; a’ goes up and 
down like a gentleman : I remember his name. 

Borachioo Didst thou not hear somebody? 

Conrade. No; ’t was the vane on the house. 

[Borachio and Conrade then discuss 'plans to 
aid Don John in one of his villainies. 

1st Watch. [Stepping forward and interrupting 
them.] We charge you, in the Prince’s name, 
stand! 

2nd Watch. Call up the right master constable. 
We have here recovered the most dangerous 
piece of treachery that ever was known in the 
commonwealth . 

1st Watch. And one Deformed is one of them: 
I know him; a’ wears a lock. 

Conrade. Masters, masters, 

2nd Watch. You’ll be made bring Deformed 
forth, I warrant you. 

Conrade. Masters, — 

1st Watch. Never speak: we charge you let us 
obey you to go with us. 

Borachio, We are like to prove a goodly com- 
modity, being taken up of these men’s bills. 

Conrade. A commodity in question, I warrant 
you. Come, we’ll obey you. [Exeunt. 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 127 


Scene II. A room in Leonato's house. 

Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges. 

Leonato. What would you with me, honest 
neighbour? 

Dogberry. Marry, sir, I would have some con- 
fidence with you that decerns you nearly. 

Leonato. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a 
busy time with me. 

Dogberry. Marry, this it is, sir. 

Verges. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 

Leonato. What is it, my good friends? 

Dogberry. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little 
off the matter; an old man, sir, and his wits are 
not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they 
were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between 
his brows. 

Verges. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any 
man living, that is an old man, and no honester 
than I. 

Dogberry. Comparisons are odorous: palabras,i 
neighbour Verges. 

Leonato. Neighbours, you are tedious. ' 

Dogberry. It pleases your worship to say so, but 
we are the poor Duke’s officers; but truly, for mine 
own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could 
find it in my heart to bestow it all of your wor- 
ship. 


' Palaver. 


128 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Leonato. All thy tediousness on me, ah? 

Dogberry. Yea, an ’t were a thousand pound 
more than ’t is; for I hear as good exclamation on 
your worship as of any man in the city; and 
though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. 

Verges. And so am I. 

Leonato. I would fain know what you have to 
say. 

Verges. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, except- 
ing your worship’s presence, have ta’en a couple 
of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. 

Dogberry. [Interrupting.] A good old man, sir; 
he will be talking: as they say, “When the age is 
in, the wit is out.” God help us! it is a world to 
see. — Well said, i’ faith, neighbour Verges: 
well, and two men ride of a horse, one must ride 
behind. — An honest soul, i’ faith, sir; by my 
troth he is, as ever broke bread; but God is to be 
worshipped; all men are not alike; alas, good 
neighbour! 

Leonato. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too 
short of you. 

Dogberry. Gifts that God gives. 

Leonato. I must leave you. 

Dogberry. One word, sir. Our Watch, sir, have 
indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and 
we would have them this morning examined be- 
fore your worship. 

Leonato. Take their examination yourself, and 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 129 

bring it me; I am now in great haste, as it may 
appear unto you. 

Dogberry. It shall be suffigance. 

Leonato. Drink some wine ere you go. Fare 
you well. [Exit Leonato. 

Dogberry. Go, good partner, go, get you to 
Francis Seacole; bid him bring his pen and ink - 
hom to the gaol: we are now to examination those 
men. 

Verges. And we must do it wisely. 

Dogberry. We will spare for no wit, I warrant 
you; only get the learned writer to set down our 
excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene III. A prison. 

Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in gowns; and 
the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio. 

Dogberry. Is our whole dissembly appeared? 

Verges. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. 

Sexton. Which be the malefactors? 

Dogberry. Marry, that am I and my partner. 

Verges. Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhi- 
bition to examine. 

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to 
be examined? let them come before master con- 
stable. 

Dogberry. Yea, marry, let them come before 
me. — [To Borachio.] What is your name, friend? 


130 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Borachio. Borachio. 

Dogberry. [To the Sexton.] Pray, write down, 
Borachio. — [To Conrade.] Yours, sirrah 

Conrade. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name 
is Conrade. 

Dogberry. Write down, master gentleman Con- 
rade. — Masters, do you serve God? 



Dogberry. Write down, that they hope they 
serve God; and write God first; for God defend 
but God should go before such villains! — Mas- 
ters, it is proved already that you are little bet- 
ter than false knaves; and it will go near to be 
thought so shortly. How answer you for your- 
selves? 

Conrade. Marry, sir, we say we are none. 

Dogberry. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure 
you; but I will go about with him. — [To Bo- 
rachio.] Come you hither, sirrah; a word in your 
ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false 
knaves. 

Borachio. Sir, I say to you we are none. 

Dogberry. Well, stand aside. — [To the Sexton.] 
Have you writ down, that they are none? 

Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way 
to examine; you must call forth the Watch that 
are their accusers. 

Dogberry. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. 


THE FOOLISH CONSTABLE 131 


Let tlie Watch come forth. — Masters, I charge 
you, in the Prince’s name, accuse these men. 

1st Watch, This man said, sir, that Don John, 
the Prince’s brother, was a villain. 

Dogberry, Write down Prince John a villain. — 
Why, this is flat perjury, to call a Prince’s brother 
villain. 

Borachio, Master constable, — 

Dogberry, Pray thee, fellow, peace; I do not 
like thy look, I promise thee. 

Sexton, [To the Watch,] What heard you him 
say else? 

2nd Watch, Marry, that he had received a 
thousand ducats of Don John. 

Dogberry, Flat burglary as ever was com- 
mitted. 

Verges, Yea, by the mass, that it is. 

Sexton, What else, fellow? 

Watch, This is all. 

Sexton, And this is more, masters, than you 
can deny. — Master constable, let these men be 
bound, and brought to Leonato; I will go before 
and show him their examination. [Exit, 

Dogberry, Come let them be opinioned. 

Verges, [Seizes Conrade,] Let them be in the 
hands — 

Conrade, Off, coxcomb! 

Dogberry, Where’s the sexton? let him write 
down, the Prince’s officer, coxcomb. — Come, 


132 THE JOLLY BOOK 

bind them. — [To Conrade.] Thou naughty var- 
let! 

Conrade, Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. 

Dogberry, Dost thou not suspect my place? 
Dost thou not suspect my years? — O that he 
were here to write me down an ass! — But, mas- 
ters, remember that I am an ass; though it be 
not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. 
— No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall 
be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise 
fellow; and, which is more, an officer; and, which 
is more, a householder; and, which is more, as 
pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina, and one 
that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow 
enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; 
and one that hath two gowns, and everything 
handsome about him. — Bring him away. — O 
that I had been writ down an ass ! 

[Exeunt y the Watch leading Borachio and Conrade 
hound. 

William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, 


MALVOLIO 


L 


133 


MALVOLIO 

AN INTERLUDE 

Dramatis Persorus 
Sir Toby Belch, uncle to Olivia. 

Sir Andrew Aguecheek, friend to Sir Toby. 
Mcdvolio, steward to Olivia. 

Fabian, servant to Olivia. 

Olivia, a lady of great beauty. 

Maria, Olivia’s woman. 

Clovm. 

Scene. A city in Illyria. 

Scene I. Olivia^ s house, 

Sm Toby, Sir Andrew, the Clown, and Maria are 
making merry. 

Enter Malvolio. 

Malvolio. My masters, are you mad? or what 
are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, 
but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? 
Do ye make an alehouse of my lady’s house, that 
ye squeak out your coziers’ catches without any 
mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect 
of place, persons, nor time in you? 

Sir Toby. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. 
Sneck up ! 

Malvolio. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. 
My lady bade me tell you, that, though she har- 
bours you as her kinsman, she’s nothing allied to 
your disorders. If you can separate yourself and 
your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the 


134 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


house; if not, an it would please you to take leave 
of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. 

Sir Toby, ^Farewell, dear hearU since 1 

must needs he gone,^ 

Maria, Nay, good Sir Toby. 

Clown, [Sings,] ^ His eyes do show his days are 
almost done,^ 

Malvolio, Is’t even so? 

Sir Toby, ^ But I will never die,^ 

Clown, Sir Toby, there you lie. 

Malvolio, This is much credit to you. 

Sir Toby. ‘ Shall I bid him go ? ’ 

Clown. ‘ What an if you do ? ’ 

Sir Toby. [Sings.] ^ Shall 1 bid him gOy and 
spare not ? ’ 

Clown. ‘0 no, no, no, no, you dare not.^ 

Sir Toby, Out o’ tune, sir; ye lie. — [To Mal- 
volio.] Art any more than a steward? Dost thou 
think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no 
more cakes and ale? 

Clown. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be 
hot i’ the mouth too. 

Sir Toby, Thou’rt i’ the right. — [To Mal- 
volio.] Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. — A 
stoup of wine, Maria! 

Malvolio. Mistress Mary, if you prized my 
lady’s favour at any thing more than contempt, 
you would not give means for this uncivil rule: 
she shall know of it, by this hand. [Exit. 


MALVOLIO 


135 


Maria. Go shake your ears. 

Sir Andrew. ’T were as good a deed as to drink 
when a man’s a-hungry, to challenge him the 
field, and then to break promise with him and 
make a fool of him. 

Sir Toby. Do’t, knight; I’ll write thee a chal- 
lenge; or I’ll deliver thy indignation to him by 
word of mouth. 

Maria. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to- 
night. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with 
him: if I do not gull him into a nay word, and 
make him a common recreation, do not think I 
have wit enough to lie straight in my bed; I know 
I can do it. 

Sir Toby. Possess us, possess us; tell us some- 
thing of him. 

Maria. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of 
puritan. 

Sir Andrew. O, if I thought that, I’d beat him 
like a dog! 

Sir Toby. What, for being a puritan? thy ex- 
quisite reason, dear knight? 

Sir Andrew. I have no exquisite reason for’t, 
but I have reason good enough. 

Maria. The devil a puritan that he is, or any- 
thing constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affec- 
tioned ass, that cons state without book and ut- 
ters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of 
himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excel- 


136 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


lencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that 
look on him love him; and on that vice in him 
will my revenge find notable cause to work. 

Sir Toby. What wilt thou do? 

Maria. I will drop in his way some obscure 
epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his 
beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, 
the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complex- 
ion, he shall find himself most feelingly person- 
ated. I can write very like my lady, your niece: 
on a forgotten matter we can hardly make dis- 
tinction of our hands. 

Sir Toby. Excellent! I smell a device. 

Sir Andrew. I have’t in my nose too. 

Sir Toby. He shall think, by the letters that 
thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, 
and that she’s in love with him. 

Maria. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that 
colour. 

Sir Andrew. And your horse now would make 
him an ass. 

Maria. Ass, I doubt not. 

Sir Andrew. O, ’t will be admirable! 

Maria. Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my 
physic will work with him. I will plant you two, 
where he shall find the letter: observe his con- 
struction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream 
on the event. Farewell. [Exeunt 


MALVOLIO 


137 


Scene II. Olivia’s garden. 

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, Fabian, and Maria. 

Maria. Get ye all three into the box-tree: 
Malvolio’s coming down this walk: he has been 
yonder i’ the sun practising behaviour to his own 
shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love 
of mockery; for I know this letter will make a 
contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of 
jesting! — Lie thou there \throws down a letter]; 
for here comes the trout that must be caught with 
tickling. [Exit. 


Enter Malvolio. 

Malvolio, ’T is but fortune; all is fortune. 
Maria once told me she did affect me; and I have 
heard herself come thus near, that, should she 
fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Be- 
sides, she uses me with a more exalted respect 
than any one else that follows her. What should 
I think on ’t? 

Sir Toby, [Aside.] Here’s an overweening rogue! 

Fabian. [Aside.] O, peace! Contemplation 
makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets 
under his advanced plumes! 

Sir Andrew. [Aside.] ’Slight, I could so beat 
the rogue! 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] Peace, I say. 

Malvolio. To be Count Malvolio! 


138 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Sir Tohy. [Aside.] Ah, rogue! 

Sir Andrew. [Aside.] Pistol him, pistol him.' 

Sir Tohy. [Aside.] Peace, peace! 

Malvolio. There is example for ’t; the lady of 
the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 

Sir Andrew. [Aside.] Pie on him, Jezebel! 

Fabian. [Aside.] O, peace! now he’s deeply in; 
look how imagination blows him. 

Malvolio. Having been three months married 
to her, sitting in my state, — 

Sir Tohy. [Aside.] O, for a stone-bow, to hit 
him in the eye! 

Malvolio. Calling my officers about me, in my 
branched velvet gown. And then to have the 
humour of state; and after a demure travel of re- 
gard, telling them I know my place as I would 
they should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman 
Toby, — 

Sir Tohy. [Aside.] Bolts and shackles! 

Fahian. [Aside.] O, peace, peace, peace! now, 
now. 

Malvolio. Seven of my people, with an obedi- 
ent start, make out for him: I frown the while; 
and perchance wind up my watch, or play with 
my — some rich jewel. Toby approaches, courte- 
sies there to me, — 

Sir Tohy. [Aside.] Shall this fellow live ? 

Fahian. [Aside.] Though our silence be drawn 
from us with cars, yet peace. 


MALVOLIO 


139 


Malvolio. I extend my hand to him thus, 
quenching my familiar smile with an austere re- 
gard of control, — 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] And does not Toby take 
you a blow o’ the lips then? 

Malvolio. Saying, ‘Cousin Toby, my fortunes 
having cast me on your niece, give me this pre- 
rogative of speech,’ — 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] What, what? 

Malvolio. ‘You must amend your drunken- 
ness.’ 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] Out, scab! 

Fabian. [Aside.] Nay, patience, or we break 
the sinews of our plot. 

Malvolio. ‘Besides, you waste the treasure of 
your time with a foolish knight,’ — 

Sir Andrew. [Aside.] That’s me, I warrant 
you. 

Malvolio. ‘One Sir Andrew,’ — 

Sir Andrew. [Aside.] I knew ’t was I; for many 
do call me fool. 

Malvolio. WThat employment have we here? 

[Taking up the letter. 

Fabian. [Aside.] Now is the woodcock near the 

gin.i 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] O, peace! and the spirit of 
humours intimate reading aloud to him ! 

Malvolio. By my life, this is my lady’s hand: 
these be her very C’^, her IT s and her T's; and 

1 Gin, trap, snare. 


140 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt 
of question, her hand. 

Sir Andrew. [Aside.] Her C's, her U's and her 
Ts: why that? 

Malvolio. [Reads.] ‘ To the unknown beloved, this, 
and my good wishes:' — her very phrases. By 
your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her 
Lucrece, with which she uses to seal ; ’t is my lady. 
To whom should this be? 

Fabian. [Aside.] This wins him, liver and all. 

Malvolio. [Reads.] 

^ Jove knows 1 love: 

But who ? 

Lips, do not move; 

No man must know.' 

*No man must know.' — What follows? 

The numbers altered ! — ^ No man must know' — 

If this should be thee, Malvolio? 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] Marry, hang thee, brock! 

Malvolio. [Reads.] 

‘7 may command where I adore; 

But silence, like a Lucrece knife. 

With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: 

M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life.' 

Fabian. [Aside.] A fustian riddle! 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] Excellent wench, say I. 

Malvolio. ^M, 0, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, 
but first, let me see, let me see, let me see. 

Fabian. [Aside.] What dish o’ poison has she 
dressed him! 


MALVOLIO 141 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] And with what wing the 
stanieP checks at it! 

Malvolio. may command where 1 adore.* Why 
she may command me: I serve her; she is my 
lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity; 
there is no obstruction in this: and the end, — 
what should that alphabetical position portend? 
If I could make that resemble something in me, 
— Softly! M, 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] 0, aye, make up that: he is 
now at a cold scent. 

Fabian. [Aside.] Sowter ^ will cry upon ’t for all 
this, though it be as rank as a fox. 

Malvolio. M, — Malvolio; if, — why, that be- 
gins my name. 

Fabian. [Aside.] Did not I say he would work 
it out? the cur is excellent at faults. 

Malvolio. if, — but then there is no conson- 
ancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: 
A should follow, but 0 does. 

Fabian. [Aside.] And 0 shall end, I hope. 

Sir Toby. [Aside.] Aye, or I’ll cudgel him, and 
make him cry 01 

Malvolio. And then 1 comes behind. 

Fabiayi. [Aside.] Aye, and you had any eye 
behind you, you might see more detraction at your 
heels than fortunes before you. 

Malvolio. if, 0, A, I; this simulation is not as 

2 Abound. 


1 Hawk. 


142 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


the former : and yet, to crush this a little, it would 
bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my 
name. Soft! here follows prose. 

[Reads.] *If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In 
my stars I am above thee; hut he not afraid of great- 
ness: some are horn great, some achieve greatness, 
and some have greatness thrust upon ’em. Thy Fates 
open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace 
them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to 
he, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be 
opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let 
thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into 
the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that 
sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow 
stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: 
1 say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou 
desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward 
still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch 
Fortune’s fingers. Farewell. She that would alter 
services with thee, 

‘The Fortunate-Unhappy/* 
Daylight and champain ^ discovers not more: 
this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic 
authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off 
gross acquaintance. I will be point-devise ^ the 
very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagi- 
nation jade me; for every reason excites to this, 
that my lady loves me. She did commend my 

1 A level, open country, a plain. 

2 Exactly, with utmost precision 


MALVOLIO 


143 


yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg 
being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests 
herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction 
drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank 
my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in 
yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with 
the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars 
be praised! — Here is yet a postscript. [Reads.] 
*Thou canst not choose hut know who I am. If 
thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; 
thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence 
still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.^ 

Jove, I thank thee! — I will smile; I will do 
everything that thou wilt have me. [Exit. 

Fabian. [Coming out of the hox-tree with Sir Toby 
and Sir Andrew.] I will not give my part of this 
sport for a pension of thousands. 

Sir Toby. I could marry this wench for this 
device. 

Sir Andrew. So could I too. 

Sir Toby. And ask no other dowry with her but 
such another jest. 

Sir Andrew. Nor I neither. 

Fabian. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 

Re-enter Maria. 

Sir Toby. [To Maria.] Wilt thou set thy foot 
o’ my neck.^ 

Sir Andrew. Or o’ mine either? 


144 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Sir Tohy. Why, thou hast put him in such a 
dream that when the image of it leaves him he 
must run mad. 

Maria, Nay, but say true; does it work upon 
him? 

Sir Tohy. Like aqua-vitae. 

Maria. If you will then see the fruits of the 
sport, mark his first approaeh before my lady: 
he will come to her in yellow stockings, — and 
’t is a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, — a 
fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, 
which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, 
being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it 
cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If 
you will see it, follow me. 

Sir Tohy. To the gates of Tartar, thou most 
excellent devil of wit! 

Sir Andrew. I ’ll make one too. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. Olivia^ s garden. 

Enter Olivia and Maria. 

Olivia. Where is Malvolio? 

Maria. He’s coming, madam; but in very 
strange manner. He is, sure, possessed, madam. 

Olivia. Why, what ’s the matter? does he rave? 

Maria. No, madam, he does nothing but smile; 
your ladyship were best to have some guard 
about you, if he come; for, sure, the man is 
tainted in ’s wits. 



OLIVIA AND MARIA IN OLIVIA’S GARDEN 



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MALVOLIO 145 

Olivia, Go call him hither. — [Exit Maria. 

I am as mad as he. 

If sad and merry madness equal be. — 

Re-enter Maria, with Malvolio, with yellow stockings 
on, cross-gartered. 

How now, Malvolio! 

Malvolio. Sweet lady, ho, ho. 

Olivia. Smilest thou? 

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. 

Malvolio. Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does 
make some obstruction in the blood, this cross- 
gartering; but what of that? if it please the eye 
of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is, 
^Please one, and please alU 

Olivia. Why, how dost thou, man? what is the 
matter with thee? 

Malvolio, Not black in my mind, though 
yellow in my legs. — It did come to his hands, 
and commands shall be executed: I think we do 
know the sweet Roman hand. 

Olivia. God comfort thee! Why dost thou 
smile so and kiss thy hand so oft? 

Maria. How do you, Malvolio? 

Malvolio. At your request! yes; nightingales 
answer daws. 

Maria. Why appear you with this ridiculous 
boldness before my lady? 

Malvolio. ‘Be not afraid of greatness’: — 
’t was well writ. 


146 THE JOLLY BOOK 

Olivia, What meanest thou by that, Malvo- 
lio? 

Malvolio, ‘Some are born great,’ — 

Olivia, Ha! 

Malvolio, ‘Some achieve greatness,’ — 

Olivia, What sayest thou? 

Malvolio, ‘And some have greatness thrust 
upon them.’ 

Olivia, Heaven restore thee! 

Malvolio, ‘Remember who commended thy 
yellow stockings,’ — 

Olivia, Thy yellow stockings! 

Malvolio, ‘And wished to see thee cross- 
gartered.’ 

Olivia, Cross-gartered ! 

Malvolio, ‘Go to, thou art made, if thou de- 
sirest to be so;’ — 

Olivia, Am I made? 

Malvolio, ‘K not, let me see thee a servant 
still.’ 

Olivia. Why, this is very midsummer madness. 
Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where ’s 
my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a 
special care of him: I would not have him mis- 
carry for the half of my dowry. 

[Exeunt Olivia and Maria, 

Malvolio, O, ho! do you come near me now? 
no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! This 
concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on 


MALVOLIO 147 

purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for 
she incites me to that in the letter. 

Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby and Fabian. 

Sir Toby, Which way is he? 

Fabian, Here he is, here he is. — [To Mai- 
volio.\ How is ’t with you, sir? how is’t with you 
man? 

Malvolio, Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy 
my private: ^ go off. 

Maria. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within 
him! did not I tell you? — Sir Toby, my lady 
prays you to have a care of him. 

Malvolio. Ah, ha! does she so? 

Sir Toby. Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not 
the way: do you not see you move him? let me 
alone with him. 

Fabian. No way but gentleness; gently, gently: 
the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. 

Sir Toby. Why, how now, my bawcock! how 
dost thou, chuck? 

Malvolio. Sir! 

Sir Toby. Aye, Biddy, come with me. 

Maria. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir 
Toby, get him to pray. 

Malvolio. My prayers, minx! 

Maria. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of 
godliness. 


Privacy. 


148 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Malvolio. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle 
shallow things: I am not of your element: you 
shall know more hereafter. [Exit 

Sir Toby. Is ’t possible? 

Fabian, If this were played upon a stage now, 
I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. 

Sir Toby. His very genius hath taken the in- 
fection of the device, man. 

Maria. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device 
take air and taint. 

Fabian. Why, we shall make him mad in- 
deed. 

Maria. The house will be the quieter. 

Sir Toby. Come, we ’ll have him in a dark room 
and bound. My niece is already in the belief that 
he’s mad: we may carry it thus, for our pleasure 
and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out 
of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at 
which time we will bring the device to the bar and 
crown thee for a finder of madmen. [Exeunt. 

Scene IV. OlivWs house. 

Malvolio locked in a dark room. Enter the Clown. 

Clown. [Singing.] "Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, 

Tell me how thy lady does.* 

Malvolio. [Calls.] Fool! 

Clown. "My lady is unkind, perdy.* 

Malvolio. Fool! 

Clown. "Alas, why is she so?* 


MALVOLIO 


149 


Malvolio. Fool, I say! 

Clown. ‘ &he loves another ’ — Who calls, 

ha? 

Malvolio. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve 
well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, 
ink, and paper: as I am a gentleman, I will live 
to be thankful to thee for’t. 

Clown. Master Malvolio? 

Malvolio. Aye, good fool. 

Clown. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five 
wits? 

Malvolio. Fool, there was never man so notori- 
ously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as 
thou art. 

Clown. But as well? then you are mad indeed, 
if you be no better in your wits than a fool. 

Malvolio. They have here propertied me; keep 
me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and 
do all they can to face me out of my wits. 

Clown. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? 

Malvolio. Good fool, help me to some light and 
some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits 
as any man in Illyria. 

Clown. Well-a-day that you were, sir! 

Malvolio. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some 
ink, paper, and light; and convey what I will set 
down to my lady: it shall advantage thee more 
than ever the bearing of letter did. 

Clown. I will help you to T. But tell me true. 


150 THE JOLLY BOOK 

are you not mad indeed? or do you but counter- 
feit? 

Malvolio, Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. 

Clown. Nay, I’ll ne’er believe a madman till I 
see his brains. I will fetch you light and paper 
and ink. 

Malvolio. Fool, I’ll requite it in the highest 
degree: I prithee, be gone. 

Clown. [Singing.] 

am gone, sir. 

And anon, sir. 

I'll he with you again. 

In a trice. 

Like to the old Vice, 

You need to sustain.' [Exit. 

Scene V. Olivia's garden. 

Enter Olivia, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew. 

Olivia. — Fetch Malvolio hither: — 

And yet, alas, now I remember me. 

They say, poor gentleman, he’s much distract. 

Enter Clown with a letter, and Fabian. 

How does he, sirrah? 

Clown. Truly, madam, as well as a man in his 
case may do: he has here writ a letter to you; I 
should have given it you to-day morning, but as 
a madman’s epistles are no gospels, so it skills not 
much when they are delivered. 


MALVOLIO 


151 


Olivia, Open ’t, and read it. 

Clown, Look then to be well edified when the 
fool delivers the madman. [Reads,] * By the Lord, 
madamj* — 

Olivia, How now! art thou mad? 

Clown, No, madam, I do but read madness: an 
your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you 
must allow vox.^ 

Olivia, [To Fabian,] Read it you, sirrah. 

Fabian, [Reads.] ^By the Lord, madam, you 
wrong me, and the world shall know it; though you 
have put me into darkness and given your drunken 
cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my 
senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own 
letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; 
with the which 1 doubt not but to do myself much 
right, or you much shame. Think of me as you 
please, I leave my duty a little unthought of, and 
speak out of my injury, 

‘ The Madly-Used Malvolio.* 

Olivia. Did he write this? 

Clown, Aye, madam. 

Olivia. See him deliver’d, Fabian; bring him 
hither, — [Exit Fabian, 

Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. 

Olivia. How now, Malvolio! 

Malvolio. Madam, you have done me wrong, 
Notorious wrong. 

1 A full and loud voice. ; 


152 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Olivia. Have I, Malvolio? no. 

Malvolio. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse 
that letter. 

You must not now deny it is your hand: 

Or say ’t is not your seal, not your invention. 
You can say none of this: well, grant it then. 
And tell me, in the modesty of honour. 

Why you have given me such clear lights of 
favour. 

Bade me come smiling and cross-garter ’d to 
you. 

To put on yellow stockings and to frown 
Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people; 

And, acting this in an obedient hope. 

Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison ’d. 

Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest. 

And made the most notorious geek ^ and gull 
That e’er invention play’d on? tell me why. 

Olivia. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing. 
Though, I confess, much like the character: 

But out of question ’t is Maria’s hand. 

And now I do bethink me, it was she 
First told me thou wast mad; then earnest in smil- 
ing, 

And in such forms which here were presuppos’d 
Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content ; 
This practice hath most shrewdly pass’d upon 
thee; 


Dupe. 


MALVOLIO 153 

But when we know the grounds and authors 
of it, 

Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
Of thine own cause. 

Fabian, Good madam, hear me speak. 

And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come 
Taint the condition of this present hour. 

Which I have wonder’d at. In hope it shall not; 
Most freely I confess, myseK and Toby 
Set this device against Malvolio here. 

Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
We had conceiv’d against him: Maria writ 
The letter at Sir Toby’s great importance; 

In recompense whereof he hath married her. 
How with a sportful malice it was follow’d. 

May rather pluck on laughter than revenge; 

If that the injuries be justly weigh’d 
That have on both sides pass’d. 

Olivia, Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled 
thee! 

Clown, WTiy, ‘some are bom great, some 
achieve greatness, and some have greatness 
thrown upon them.’ I was one, sir, in this inter- 
lude; but that ’s all one. ‘By the Lord, fool, I am 
not mad.’ But do you remember? ‘Madam, why 
laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile 
not, he ’s gagged:’ and thus the whirligig of time 
brings in his revenges. 

Olivia, He hath been most notoriously abus’d. 


154 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Clown. [Sings.] 

When that I was and a little tiny hoy^ 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 

A foolish thing was hut a toy. 

For the rain it raineth every day. 

A great while ago the world begun. 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. 

But that *s all one, our play is done. 

And we 7Z strive to please you every day. 

[Exeunt. 

William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night. 


ADVENTURES OF BOYS BRILLIANT AND 
BOLD 



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TOM BAILEY’S FIGHT 


When I was a boy in school it happened, one 
afternoon at the close of the session, that my 
little friend Binny Wallace and I, having got 
swamped in our Latin exercise, were detained in 
school for the purpose of refreshing our memories 
with a page of Mr. Andrews’s perplexing irregular 
verbs. Binny Wallace finishing his task first, was 
dismissed. I followed shortly after, and, on 
stepping into the playground, saw my little friend 
plastered, as it were, up against the fence, and 
Conway standing in front of him ready to deliver 
a blow on the upturned, unprotected face, whose 
gentleness would have stayed any arm but a 
coward’s. 

Seth Rodgers, with both hands in his pockets, 
was leaning against the pump lazily enjoying the 
sport; but on seeing me sweep across the yard, 
whirling my strap of books in the air like a sling, 
he called out lustily, “Lay low, Conway! here’s 
young Bailey!” 

Conway turned just in time to catch on his 
shoulder the blow intended for his head. He 
reached forward one of his long arms — he had 
arms like a windmill, that boy — and, grasping 
me by the hair, tore out quite a respectable 


158 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


handful. The tears flew to my eyes, but they were 
not the tears of defeat; they were merely the 
involuntary tribute which nature paid to the 
departed tresses. 

In a second my jacket lay on the ground, and I 
stood on guard, resting lightly on my right leg 
and keeping my eye fixed steadily on Conway’s, 
— in all of which I was faithfully following the 
instructions of Phil Adams, whose father sub- 
scribed to a sporting journal. 

Conway also threw himself into a defensive 
attitude, and there we were, glaring at each other, 
motionless, neither of us disposed to risk an at- 
tack, but both on the alert to resist one. There 
is no telling how long we might have remained 
in that absurd position, had we not been inter- 
rupted. 

It was a custom with the larger pupils to 
return to the playground after school, and play 
base-ball until sundown. Just at this crisis a 
dozen or so of the boys entered the gate, and, 
seeing at a glance the belligerent status of Conway 
and myself, dropped bat and ball, and rushed to 
the spot where we stood. 

“Is it a fight?” asked Phil Adams, who saw by 
our freshness that we had not yet got to work. 

“Yes, it’s a fight,” I answered, “unless Con- 
way will ask Wallace’s pardon, promise never to 
hector me in future, — and put back my hair!” 


TOM BAILEY’S FIGHT 


159 


This last condition was rather a staggerer. 

“I sha’n’t do nothing of the sort,” said Conway 
sulkily. 

“Then the thing must go on,” said Adams, 
with dignity. “Rodgers, as I understand it, is 
your second, Conway? Bailey, come here. What ’s 
the row about?” 

“He was thrashing Binny Wallace.” 

“No, I was n’t,” interrupted Conway; “but I 
was going to, because he knows who put Meeks’s 
mortar over our door. And I know well enough 
who did it; it was that sneaking little mulatter!” 
— pointing at me. 

“O, by George!” I cried, reddening at the 
insult. 

“Cool is the word,” said Adams, as he bound 
a handkerchief round my head, and carefully 
tucked away the long straggling locks that 
offered a tempting advantage to the enemy. 

“Who ever heard of a fellow with such a head 
of hair going into action!” muttered Phil, twitch- 
ing the handkerchief to ascertain if it were 
securely tied. He then loosened my gallowses 
(braces), and buckled them tightly above my 
hips. 

“Now, then, bantam, never say die!” 

Conway regarded these business-like prepar- 
ations with evident misgiving, for he called 
Rodgers to his side, and had himself arrayed in a 


160 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


similar manner, though his hair was cropped so 
close that you could n’t have taken hold of it 
with a pair of tweezers. 

“Is your man ready?” asked Phil Adams, 
addressing Rodgers. 

“Ready!” 

“Keep your back to the gate, Tom,” whispered 
Phil in my ear, “and you’ll have the sun in his 
eyes.” 

Behold us once more face to face. Look at us 
as long as you may; for this is all you shall see of 
the combat. You ’ll get no description of it from 
me, simply because I think it would prove very 
poor reading, and not because I consider my 
revolt against Conway’s tyranny unjustifiable. 

I could hardly stand, and could see not at all 
(having pummelled the school-pump for the last 
twenty seconds), when Conway retired from the 
field. As Phil Adams stepped up to shake hands 
with me, he received a telling blow in the stomach; 
for all the fight was not out of me yet, and I mis- 
took him for a new adversary. 

Convinced of my error, I accepted his con- 
gratulations, with those of the other boys, blandly 
and blindly. Binny Wallace wanted to give me 
his silver pencil-case. The gentle soul had stood 
throughout the contest with his face turned to 
the fence, suffering untold agony. 

^ A good wash at the pump, and a cold key 


TOM BAILEY’S EIGHT 


161 


applied to my eye, refreshed me amazingly. 
Escorted by two or three of the schoolfellows, I 
walked home through the pleasant autumn 
twilight, battered but triumphant. As I went 
along, my cap cocked on one side to keep the 
chilly air from my eye, I felt that I was not only 
following my nose, but following it so closely, that 
I was in some danger of treading on it. I seemed 
to have nose enough for the whole party. My 
left cheek, also, was puffed out like a dumpling. 
I couldn’t help saying to myself: “If this is 
victory, how about that other fellow?” 

It was early candle-light when we reached the 
house. Miss Abigail, opening the front door, 
started back at my hilarious appearance. I tried 
to smile upon her sweetly, but the smile, rippling 
over my swollen cheek, and dying away like a 
spent wave on my nose, produced an expression 
of which Miss Abigail declared she had never 
seen the like excepting on the face of a Chinese 
idol. 

She hustled me unceremoniously into the 
presence of my grandfather in the sitting-room. 
Captain Nutter, as the recognized professional 
warrior of our family, could not consistently take 
me to task for fighting Conway; nor was he dis- 
posed to do so; for the Captain was well aware of 
the long-continued provocation I had endured. 

“Ah, you rascal!” cried the old gentleman. 


162 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


after hearing my story, “just like me when I was 
young, — always in one kind of trouble or 
another. I believe it runs in the family.” 

“I think,” said Miss Abigail, without the 
faintest expression on her countenance, “that a 
tablespoonful of hot-dro — ” 

The Captain interrupted Miss Abigail peremp- 
torily, directing her to make a shade out of card- 
board and black silk, to tie over my eye. Miss 
Abigail must have been possessed with the idea 
that I had taken up pugilism as a profession, for 
she turned out no fewer than six of these blinders. 

“They’ll be handy to have in the house,” said 
Miss Abigail, grimly. 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Story of a Bad Boy, 


TOM BAILEY BECOMES A MEMBER OF 
THE CENTIPEDES 

One August vacation I became a member of 
the Rivermouth Centipedes, a secret society 
composed of twelve of the Temple Grammar 
School boys. This was an honour to which I had 
long aspired, but, being a new boy, I was not 
admitted to the fraternity until my character 
had fully developed itself. 

It was a very select society, the object of which 
I never fathomed, though I was an active member 
of the body during the remainder of my residence 


THE CENTIPEDES 163 

at Rivermouth, and at one time held the onerous 
position of F.C. — First Centipede. 

Each of the elect wore a copper cent (some 
occult association being established between a 
cent apiece and a centipede!) suspended by a 
string round his neck. The medals were worn 
next the skin, and it was while bathing one day at 
Grave Point, with Jack Harris and Fred Langdon, 
that I had my curiosity roused to the highest 
pitch by a sight of these singular emblems. As 
soon as I ascertained the existence of a boys’ club, 
of course I was ready to die to join it. And eventu- 
ally I was allowed to join. 

The initiation ceremony took place in Fred 
Langdon’s barn, where I was submitted to a series 
of trials not calculated to soothe the nerves of a 
timorous boy. Before being led to the Grotto of 
Enchantment, — such was the modest title given 
to the loft over my friend’s wood-house, — my 
hands were securely pinioned, and my eyes cov- 
ered with a thick silk handkerchief. 

At the head of the stairs I was told in an un- 
recognizable, husky voice, that it was not yet too 
late to retreat if I felt myself physically too weak 
to undergo the necessary tortures. I replied that 
I was not too weak, in a tone which I intended to 
be resolute, but which, in spite of me, seemed to 
come from the pit of my stomach. 

“It is well!” said the husky voice. 


164 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


I did not feel so sure about that; but, having 
made up my mind to be a Centipede, a Centi- 
pede I was bound to be. Other boys had passed 
through the ordeal and lived, why should not I ? 

A prolonged silence followed this preliminary 
examination, and I was wondering what would 
come next, when a pistol fired off close by my ear 
deafened me for a moment. The unknown voice 
then directed me to take ten steps forward and 
stop at the word halt. I took ten steps, and 
halted. 

“Stricken mortal,” said a second husky voice, 
more husky, if possible, than the first, “if you 
had advanced another inch, you would have dis- 
appeared down an abyss three thousand feet 
deep!” 

I naturally shrunk back at this friendly piece 
of information. A prick from some two-pronged 
instrument, evidently a pitchfork, gently checked 
my retreat. 

I was then conducted to the brink of several 
other precipices, and ordered to step over many 
dangerous chasms, where the result would have 
been instant death if I had committed the least 
mistake. I have neglected to say that my move- 
ments were accompanied by dismal groans from 
different parts of the grotto. 

Finally, I was led up a steep plank to what 
appeared to me an incalculable height. Here I 


THE CENTffEDES 


165 


stood breathless while the by-laws were read 
aloud. A more extraordinary code of laws never 
came from the brain of man. The penalties at- 
tached to the abject being who should reveal any 
of the secrets of the society were enough to make 
the blood run cold. 

' A second pistol-shot was heard, the something 
I stood on sunk with a crash beneath my feet, and 
I fell two miles, as nearly as I could compute it. 
At the same instant the handkerchief was 
whisked from my eyes, and I found myself stand- 
ing in an empty hogshead surrounded by twelve 
masked figures fantastically dressed. 

One of the conspirators was really appalling 
with a tin sauce-pan on his head, and a tiger-skin 
sleigh-robe thrown over his shoulders. I scarcely 
need say that there were no vestiges to be seen 
of the fearful gulfs over which I had passed so 
cautiously. My ascent had been to the top of the 
hogshead, and my descent to the bottom thereof. 

Holding one another by the hand, and chant- 
ing a low dirge, the Mystic Twelve revolved about 
me. This concluded the ceremony. With a merry 
shout the boys threw off their masks, and I was 
declared a regularly installed member of ^the 
R.M.C. 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Story of a Bod Bay, 


166 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


WHY THE PETERKINS HAD A LATE 
DINNER 

The trouble was in the dumb-waiter. All 
had seated themselves at the dinner-table, and 
Amanda had gone to take out the dinner she had 
sent up from the kitchen on the dumb-waiter. 
But something was the matter; she could not pull 
it up. There was the dinner, but she could not 
reach it. All the family, in turn, went and tried; 
all pulled together in vain; the dinner could not 
be stirred. 

“No dinner!” exclaimed Agamemnon. 

“I am quite hungry,” said Solomon John. 

At last Mr. Peterkin said, “I am not proud. 
I am willing to dine in the kitchen.” 

This room was below the dining-room. All 
consented to this. Each one went down, taking 
a napkin. 

The cook laid the kitchen table, put on it 
her best table-cloth, and the family sat down. 
Amanda went to the dumb-waiter for the dinner, 
but she could not move it down. 

The family were all in dismay. There was the 
dinner, half-way between the kitchen and dining- 
room, and there were they all hungry to eat it! 

“What is there for dinner?” asked Mr. 
Peterkin. 


THE PETERKINS 


167 


“Roast turkey,” said Mrs. Peterkin. 

Mr. Peterkin lifted his eyes to the ceiling. 

“Squash, tomato, potato, and sweet potato,” 
Mrs. Peterkin continued. 

“ Sweet potato ! ” exclaimed both the little boys. 

“I am very glad now that I did not have cran- 
berry,” said Mrs. Peterkin, anxious to find a 
bright point. 

“Let us sit down and think about it,” said 
Mr. Peterkin. 

“I have an idea,” said Agamemnon, after a 
while. 

“Let us hear it,” said Mr. Peterkin. “Let 
each one speak his mind.” 

“The turkey,” said Agamemnon, “must be 
just above the kitchen door. If I had a ladder 
and an ax, I could cut away the plastering and 
reach it.” 

“That is a great idea,” said Mrs. Peterkin. 

“If you think you could do it,” said Mr. 
Peterkin. 

“Would it not be better to have a carpenter?” 
asked Elizabeth Eliza. 

“A carpenter might have a ladder and an ax, 
and I think we have neither,” said Mrs. Peterkin. 

“A carpenter ! A carpenter ! ” exclaimed the rest. 

It was decided that Mr. Peterkin, Solomon 
John, and the little boys should go in search of a 
carpenter. 


168 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Agamemnon proposed that, meanwhile, he 
should go and borrow a book, for he had another 
idea. 

“This affair of the turkey,” he said, “reminds 
me of those buried cities that have been dug out, 
— Herculaneum, for instance.” 

“Oh, yes,” interrupted Elizabeth Eliza, “and 
Pompeii.” 

“Yes,” said Agamemnon. “They found there 
pots and kettles. Now, I should like to know how 
they did it; and I mean to borrow a book and 
read. I think it was done with a pickax.” 

So the party set out. But when Mr. Peterkin 
reached the carpenter’s shop there was no car- 
penter to be found there. 

“He must be at his house, eating his dinner,” 
suggested Solomon John. 

“Happy man,” exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, “he 
has a dinner to eat!” 

They went to the carpenter’s house, but found 
he had gone out of town for a day’s job. But his 
wife told them that he always came back at night 
to ring the nine-o’clock bell. 

“We must wait till then,” said Mr. Peterkin, 
with an effort at cheerfulness. 

At home he found Agamemnon reading his book 
and all sat down to hear of Herculaneum and 
Pompeii. 

Time passed on, and the question arose about 


THE PETERKINS 


169 


tea. Would it do to have tea when they had had 
no dinner? A part of the family thought it would 
not do; the rest wanted tea. 

“I suppose you remember the wise lady of 
Philadelphia, who was here not long ago?’’ said 
Mr. Peterkin. 

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Peterkin. 

“Let us try to think what she would advise 
us,” said Mr. Peterkin. 

“I wish she were here,” said Elizabeth Eliza. 

“I think,” said Mr. Peterkin, “she would say, 
let them that want tea have it; the rest can go 
without.” 

So they had tea, and, as it proved, all sat down 
to it. But not much was eaten, as there had been 
no dinner. 

When the nine-o’clock bell was heard, Aga- 
memnon, Solomon John, and the little boys 
rushed to the church and found the carpenter. 

They asked him to bring a ladder, ax, and 
pickax. As he felt it might be a case of fire he 
brought also his fire-buckets. 

When the matter was explained to him he went 
into the dining-room, looked into the dumb- 
waiter, untwisted a cord, and arranged the 
weight, and pulled up the dinner. 

There was a family shout. 

“The trouble was in the weight,” said the 
carpenter. 


170 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“That is why it is called a dumb-waiter,” 
Solomon John explained to the little boys. 

The dinner was put upon the table. 

Mrs. Peterkin frugally suggested that they 
might now keep it for next day, as to-day was 
almost gone, and they had had tea. 

But nobody listened. All sat down to the roast 
turkey, and Amanda warmed over the vegeta- 
bles. 

“Patient waiters are no losers,” said Aga- 
memnon. 

Lucretia P. Hale, Peterhin Papers. 


THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE THE 
FOURTH OF JULY 

The day began early. 

A compact had been made with the little boys 
the evening before. 

They were to be allowed to usher in the glorious 
day by the blowing of horns exactly at sunrise. 
But they were to blow them for precisely five 
minutes only, and no sound of the horns should 
be heard afterward till the family were down- 
stairs. 

It was thought that a peace might thus be 
bought by a short, though crowded, period of 
noise. 

The morning came. Even before the morning. 


THE PETERKINS 171 

at half-past three o’clock, a terrible blast of the 
horns aroused the whole family. 

Mrs. Peter kin clasped her hands to her head 
and exclaimed, “I am thankful the lady from 
Philadelphia is not here!” For she had been in- 
vited to stay a week, but had declined to come 
before the Fourth of July, as she was not well, and 
her doctor had prescribed quiet. 

And the number of the horns was most remark- 
able ! It was as though every cow in the place had 
arisen and was blowing through both her own 
horns 1 

“How many little boys are there How many 
have we?” exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, going over 
their names one by one mechanically, thinking he 
would do it, as he might count imaginary sheep 
jumping over a fence, to put himself to sleep. 
Alas! the counting could not put him to sleep 
now, in such a din. 

And how unexpectedly long the five minutes 
seemed! Elizabeth Eliza was to take out her 
watch and give the signal for the end of the five 
minutes, and the ceasing of the horns. Why did 
not the signal come? Why did not Elizabeth 
Eliza stop them? 

And certainly it was long before sunrise; there 
was no dawn to be seen ! 

“We will not try this plan again,” said Mrs. 
Peterkin. 


172 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“If we live to another Fourth,” added Mr. 
Peterkin, hastening to the door to inquire into the 
state of affairs. 

Alas ! Amanda, — the cook, — by mistake, had 
waked up the little boys an hour too early. And 
by another mistake the little boys had invited 
three or four of their friends to spend the night 
with them. Mrs. Peterkin had given them per- 
mission to have the boys for the whole day, and 
they understood the day as beginning when they 
went to bed the night before. This accounted for 
the number of horns. 

It would have been impossible to hear any 
explanation; but the five minutes were over, and 
the horns had ceased, and there remained only 
the noise of a singular leaping of feet, explained 
perhaps by a possible pillow-fight, that kept the 
family below partially awake until the bells and 
cannon made known the dawning of the glorious 
day, — the sunrise, or “the rising of the sons,” 
as Mr. Peterkin jocosely called it when they 
heard the little boys and their friends clattering 
down the stairs to begin the outside festivities. 

They were bound first for the swamp, for 
Elizabeth Eliza, at the suggestion of the lady 
from Philadelphia, had advised them to hang 
some flags around the pillars of the piazza. Now 
the little boys knew of a place in the swamp where 
they had been in the habit of digging for “flag- 


THE PETERKINS 173 

root,” and where they might find plenty of flag 
flowers. 

They did bring away all they could, but they 
were a little out of bloom. The boys were in the 
midst of nailing up all they had on the pillars of 
the piazza, when the procession of the Antiques 
and Horribles passed along. As the procession 
saw the festive arrangements on the piazza, and 
the crowd of boys, who cheered them loudly, it 
stopped to salute the house with some especial 
strains of greeting. 

Poor Mrs. Peterkin! They were directly under 
her windows ! In a few moments of quiet, during 
the boys’ absence from the house on their visit to 
the swamp, she had been trying to find out 
whether she had a sick-headache, or whether it 
was all the noise, and she was just deciding it was 
the sick-headache, but was falling into a light 
slumber, when the fresh noise outside began. 

There were the imitations of the crowing of 
cocks, and braying of donkeys, and the sound 
of horns, encored and increased by the cheers of 
the boys. Then began the torpedoes, and the 
Antiques and Horribles had Chinese crackers also. 

And, in despair of sleep, the family came down 
to breakfast. 

Mrs. Peterkin had always been much afraid of 
fireworks, and had never allowed the boys to 
bring gunpowder into the house. She was even 


174 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


afraid of torpedoes; they looked so much like 
sugar-plums she was sure some of the children 
would swallow them, and explode before anybody 
knew it. 

She was very timid about other things. She was 
not sure even about peanuts. Everybody ex- 
claimed over this, “Surely there was no danger 
in peanuts!” But Mrs. Peterkin declared she 
had been very much alarmed at the Centennial 
Exhibition, and in the crowded corners of the 
streets in Boston, at the peanut stands, where 
they had machines to roast the peanuts. She did 
not think it was safe. They might go off any 
time, in the midst of a crowd of people, too ! 

Mr. Peterkin thought there actually was no 
danger, and he should be sorry to give up the 
peanut. He thought it an American institution, 
something really belonging to the Fourth of July. 
He even confessed to a quiet pleasure in crushing 
the empty shells with his feet on the sidewalks as 
he went along the streets. 

Agamemnon thought it a simple joy. 

In consideration, however, of the fact that they 
had had no real celebration of the Fourth the last 
year, Mrs. Peterkin had consented to give over 
the day, this year, to the amusement of the 
family as a Centennial celebration. She would 
prepare herself for a terrible noise, — only she did 
not want any gunpowder brought into the house. 


THE PETERKINS 


175 


The little boys had begun by firing some tor- 
pedoes a few days beforehand, that their mother 
might be used to the sound, and had selected their 
horns some weeks before. 

Solomon John had been very busy in inventing 
some fireworks. As Mrs. Peterkin objected to the 
use of gunpowder, he found out from the diction- 
ary what the different parts of gunpowder are, — 
saltpetre, charcoal, and sulphur. Charcoal, he 
discovered, they had in the wood-house; salt- 
petre they would find in the cellar, in the beef 
barrel; and sulphur they could buy at the apothe- 
cary’s. He explained to his mother that these 
materials had never yet exploded in the house, and 
she was quieted. 

Agamemnon, meanwhile, remembered a recipe 
he had read somewhere for making a “fulminat- 
ing paste” of iron-filings and powder of brim- 
stone. He had written it down on a piece of paper 
in his pocket-book. But the iron filings must be 
finely powdered. This they began upon a day or 
two before, and the very afternoon before laid out 
some of the paste on the piazza. 

Pin-wheels and rockets were contributed by 
Mr. Peterkin for the evening. According to a 
programme drawn up by Agamemnon and 
Solomon John, the reading of the Declaration of 
Independence was to take place in the morning, 
on the piazza, under the flags. 


176 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


The Brom wicks brought over their flag to hang 
over the door. 

“That is what the lady from Philadelphia 
meant,” explained Elizabeth Eliza. “She said the 
flags of our country,” said the little boys. “We 
thought she meant ‘in the country.’” 

Quite a company assembled; but it seemed 
nobody had a copy of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. 

Elizabeth Eliza said she could say one line, if 
they each could add as much. But it proved they 
all knew the same line that she did, as they 
began: — 

“When, in the course of — when, in the 
course of — when, in the course of human — 
when, in the course of human events — when, in 
the course of human events, it becomes — when, 
in the course of human events, it becomes neces- 
sary — when, in the course of human events, it 
becomes necessary for one people” — 

They could not get any farther. Some of the 
party decided that “one people” was a good 
place to stop, and the little boys sent off some 
fresh torpedoes in honour of the people. But 
Mr. Peterkin was not satisfied. He invited the 
assembled party to stay until sunset, and mean- 
while he would find a copy, and torpedoes were 
to be saved to be fired off at the close of every 
sentence. 


THE PETERKINS 177 

And now the noon bells rang and the noon bells 
ceased. 

Mrs. Peterkin wanted to ask everybody to 
dinner. She should have some cold beef. She had 
let Amanda go, because it was the Fourth, and 
everybody ought to be free that one day; so she 
could not have much of a dinner. But when she 
went to cut her beef she found Solomon had 
taken it to soak, on account of the saltpetre, for 
the fireworks ! 

Well, they had a pig; so she took a ham, and 
the boys had bought tamarinds and buns and a 
cocoanut. So the company stayed on, and when 
the Antiques and Horribles passed again they 
were treated to peanuts and lemonade. 

They sang patriotic songs, they told stories, 
they fired torpedoes, they frightened the cats with 
them. It was a warm afternoon; the red poppies 
were out wide, and the hot sun poured down on 
the alley- ways in the garden. There was a seeth- 
ing sound of a hot day in the buzzing of insects, 
in the steaming heat that came up from the 
ground. Some neighbouring boys were firing a 
toy cannon. Every time it went off Mrs. Peterkin 
started, and looked to see if one of the little boys 
was gone. 

Mr. Peterkin had set out to find a copy of the 
“Declaration.” Agamemnon had disappeared. 
She had not a moment to decide about her head- 


178 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


ache. She asked Ann Maria if she were not 
anxious about the fireworks, and if rockets were 
not dangerous. They went up, but you were 
never sure where they came down. 

And then came a fresh tumult! All the fire- 
engines in town rushed toward them, clanging 
with bells, men and boys yelling ! They were out 
for a practice, and for a Fourth-of-July show. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought the house was on fire, 
and so did some of the guests. There was great 
rushing hither and thither. Some thought they 
would better go home; some thought they would 
better stay. Mrs. Peterkin hastened into the 
house to save herself, or see what she could save. 

Elizabeth Eliza followed her, first proceeding 
to collect all the pokers and tongs she could find, 
because they could be thrown out of the window 
without breaking. She had read of people who 
had flung looking-glasses out of the window by 
mistake, in the excitement of the house being on 
fire, and had carried the pokers and tongs care- 
fully into the garden. There was nothing like 
being prepared. She had always determined to 
do the reverse. So with calmness she told Solo- 
mon John to take down the looking-glasses. But 
she met with a difficulty, — there were no pokers 
and tongs, as they did not use them. They had 
no open fires; Mrs. Peterkin had been afraid of 
them. So Elizabeth Eliza took all the pots and 


THE PETERKINS 179 

kettles up to the upper windows, ready to be 
thrown out. 

But where was Mrs. Peterkin? Solomon John 
found she had fled to the attic in terror. He per- 
suaded her to come down, assuring her it was the 
most unsafe place; but she insisted upon stopping 
to collect some bags of old pieces, that nobody 
would think of saving from the general wreck, 
she said, unless she did. Alas ! this was the result 
of fireworks on Fourth of July. 

As they came downstairs they heard the voices 
of all the company declaring there was no fire; 
the danger was past. It was long before Mrs. 
Peterkin could believe it. They told her the fire 
company was only out for show, and to celebrate 
the Fourth of July. She thought it already too 
much celebrated. 

Elizabeth Eliza’s kettles and pans had come 
down through the windows with a crash, — that 
had only added to the festivities, the little boys 
thought. 

Mr. Peterkin had been roaming about all this 
time in search of a copy of the Declaration of 
Independence. The public library was shut, and 
he had to go from house to house; but now, as the 
sunset bells and cannon began, he returned with 
a copy, and read it, to the pealing of the bells and 
sounding of the cannon. Torpedoes and crackers 
were fired at every pause. Some sweet-marjoram 


180 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


pots, tin cans filled with crackers which were 
lighted, went off with great explosions. 

At the most exciting moment, near the close of 
the reading, Agamemnon, with an expression of 
terror, pulled Solomon John aside. 

“I have suddenly remembered where I read 
about the ‘fulminating paste’ we made. It was 
in the preface to ‘Woodstock,’ and I have been 
round to borrow the book to read the directions 
over again, because I was afraid about the 
‘paste’ going off. Read this quickly! and tell 
me. Where is the fulminating paste ? ” 

Solomon John was busy winding some covers 
of paper over a little parcel. It contained chlorate 
of potash and sulphur mixed. A friend had told 
him of the composition. The more thicknesses of 
paper you put round it the louder it would go off. 
You must pound it with a hammer. Solomon 
John felt it must be perfectly safe, as his mother 
had taken potash for a medicine. 

He still held the parcel as he read from Aga- 
memnon’s book, “This paste, when it has lain 
together about twenty-six hours, will of itself take 
fire, and burn all the sulphur away with a blue 
flame and a bad smell.” 

“Where is the paste?” repeated Solomon John, 
in terror. 

“We made it just twenty-six hours ago,” said 
Agamemnon. 


THE PETERKINS 


181 


“We put it on the piazza,” exclaimed Solomon 
John, rapidly recalling the facts, “and it is in 
front of our mother’s feet!” 

He hastened to snatch the paste away before it 
should take fire, fiinging aside the packet in his 
hurry. Agamemnon, jumping upon the piazza at 
the same moment, trod upon the paper parcel, 
which exploded at once with the shock, and he 
fell to the ground, while at the same moment the 
paste “fulminated” into a blue flame directly in 
front of Mrs. Peterkin. 

It was a moment of great confusion. There 
were cries and screams. The bells were still ring- 
ing, the cannon firing, and Mr. Peterkin had just 
reached the closing words, “Our lives, our for- 
tunes, and our sacred honour.” 

“We are all blown up, as I feared we should 
be,” Mrs. Peterkin at length ventured to say, 
finding herself in a lilac-bush by the side of the 
piazza. She scarcely dared to open her eyes to 
see the scattered limbs about her. 

It was so with all. Even Ann Maria Bromwick 
clutched a pillar of the piazza, with closed eyes. 

At length Mr. Peterkin said, calmly, “Is any- 
body killed.^” 

There was no reply. Nobody could tell whether 
it was because everybody was killed, or because 
they were too wounded to answer. It was a great 
while before Mrs. Peterkin ventured to move. 


182 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


But the little boys soon shouted with joy, and 
cheered the success of Solomon John’s fireworks, 
and hoped he had some more. One of them had 
his face blackened by an unexpected cracker, and 
Elizabeth Eliza’s muslin dress was burned here 
and there. But no one was hurt; no one had lost 
any limbs, though Mrs. Peterkin was sure she had 
seen some flying in the air. Nobody could under- 
stand how, as she had kept her eyes firmly shut. 

No greater accident had occurred than the 
singeing of the tip of Solomon John’s nose. But 
there was an unpleasant and terrible odour from 
the “fulminating paste.” 

Mrs. Peterkin was extricated from the lilac- 
bush. No one knew how she got there. Indeed, 
the thundering noise had stunned everybody. 
It had roused the neighbourhood even more than 
before. Answering explosions came on every side, 
and, though the sunset light had not faded away, 
the little boys hastened to send off rockets under 
cover of the confusion. Solomon John’s other 
fireworks would not go off. But all felt he had 
done enough. 

Mrs. Peterkin retreated into the parlour, de- 
ciding she really did have a headache. At times 
she had to come out when a rocket went off, to 
see if it was one of the little boys. She was ex- 
hausted by the adventures of the day, and almost 
thought it could not have been worse if the boys 


HANDY ANDY AND THE HORSE 183 

had been allowed gunpowder. The distracted lady 
was thankful there was likely to be but one 
Centennial Fourth in her lifetime, and declared 
she should never more keep anything in the house 
as dangerous as saltpetred beef, and she should 
never venture to take another spoonful of potash. 

Lucretia P. Hale, Peterkin Papers, 


HANDY ANDY GOES FOR THE HORSE 

Andy Rooney was a fellow who had the most 
singularly ingenious knack of doing everything the 
wrong way. Disappointment waited on all ajffairs 
in which he bore part, and destruction was at his 
fingers’ ends; so the nickname the neighbours 
stuck upon him was “Handy Andy,” and the 
jeering jingle pleased them. 

Andy grew up in mischief and the admiration 
of his mammy; but, to do him justice, he never 
meant harm in the course of his life, and he was 
most anxious to offer his services on all occasions 
to those who would accept them; but they were 
only the persons who had not already proved 
Andy’s peculiar powers. 

I There was a farmer hard by in this happy state 
of ignorance, named Owen Doyle, or “Owen of 
the horses,” as he was called because he bred 
many of these animals and sold them at the 
neighbouring fairs. 


184 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Andy one day offered his services to Owny, 
when he was in want of some one to drive up a 
horse to his house from a distant “bottom” as 
low grounds by a riverside are called in Ireland. 

“Oh, he’s wild, Andy, and you’d never be able 
to ketch him,” said Owny. 

“Troth, an’ I’ll engage I’ll ketch him if you’ll 
let me go. I never seen the horse I could n’t 
ketch, sir,” said Andy. 

“Why, you little spridhogue, if he took to 
runnin’ over the long bottom, it ’ud be more than 
a day’s work for you to folly him.” 

“O, but he won’t run.” 

“Wdiy won’t he run?” 

“Bekase I won’t make him run.” 

“How can you help it?” 

“I’ll soother him.” 

“Well, you’re a willin’ brat, anyhow, and so go 
on, and God speed you!” said Owny. 

“Just gi’ me a wisp o’ hay an’ a han’ful iv 
oats,” said Andy, “if I should have to coax 
him.” 

“Sartinly,” said Owny, who entered the stable 
and came forth with the articles required by Andy, 
and a halter for the horse also. 

“Now take care,” said Owny, “that you are 
able to ride that horse if you get on him.” 

“Oh, niver fear, sir. I can ride ould Lanty 
Gubbins’ mule betther nor any o’ the boys on the 


HANDY ANDY AND THE HORSE 185 


common, and he could n’t throw me th’ other day, 
though he kicked the shoes av him.” 

“After that you may ride anything,” said 
Owny: and indeed it was true, for Lanty’s mule, 
which fed on the common, being ridden slyly by 
all the young vagabonds in the neighbourhood, 
had become such an adept in the art of getting 
rid of his troublesome customers, that it might 
well be considered a feat to stick on him. 

“Now, take great care of him, Andy, my boy,” 
said the farmer. 

“Don’t be afeared, sir,” said Andy, starting on 
his errand. 

The river lay between Owny Doyle’s and the 
bottom, and was too deep for Andy to ford at that 
season, so he went round by Dinny Dowling’s 
mill, where a small wooden bridge crossed the 
stream. 

Here he thought he might as well secure the 
assistance of Paudeen, the miller’s son, to help 
him in catching the horse. So he looked about the 
place until he found him, and telling him the 
errand on which he was going, said : — 

“If you like to come wid me, we can both have 
a ride.” 

This was temptation sufficient for Paudeen, 
and the boys proceeded together to the bottom, 
and they were not long in securing the horse. 
Then Paudeen, catching Andy’s left foot in both 


186 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


his hands clasped together in the fashion of a 
stirrup, hoisted his friend on the horse’s back, and, 
as soon as he was secure there. Master Paudeen, 
by the aid of Andy’s hand, contrived to scramble 
up after him; upon which Andy applied his heel 
to the horse’s side, with many vigorous kicks, 
and crying, “Hurrup!” at the same time, turned 
the horse’s head toward the mill. 

“Sure, arn’t you going to crass the river?” 
said Paudeen. 

“No; I ’m going to lave you at home.” 

“Oh, I’d rather go up to Owny’s; and it’s the 
shortest way acrass the river.” 

“Yes, but I don’t like.” 

“Is it af eared that you are?” said Paudeen. 

“Not I, indeed,” said Andy, — though it was 
really the fact, for the width of the stream 
startled him. — “But Owny told me to take 
grate care o’ the baste, and I ’m loath to wet his 
feet,” 

“Go ’long wid you, you fool! what harm would 
it do him? Sure he’s neither sugar nor salt that 
he’d melt.” 

“Well, I won’t anyhow,” said Andy, who by 
this time had got the horse into a good high trot 
that shook every word of argument out of 
Paudeen’s body. Besides it was as much as the 
boys could do to keep their seats on Owny’s steed, 
who was not long in reaching the miller’s bridge. 


HANDY ANDY AND THE HORSE 187 

Here voice and halter were employed to pull 
him in, that he might cross the narrow wooden 
structure at a quiet pace. Whether the pair of 
legs on each side sticking into his flanks, (and 
perhaps the horse was ticklish,) made him go the 
faster, we know not, but the horse charged the 
bridge like a war-horse with an enemy before him. 
And in two minutes his hoofs clattered like 
thunder on the bridge, that did not bend beneath 
him. 

No, it did not hend, but it broke! proving the 
falsehood of the boast, “I may break, but I won’t 
bend”; for after all the really strong may bend, 
and be as strong as ever. It is the unsound that 
has only the seeming of strength, which breaks 
at last when it resists too long. 

Surprising was the spin the boys took over the 
ears of the horse. Plump they went into the river, 
where each formed his own ring, and executed 
some comical “scenes in the circle” which were 
suddenly changed to evolutions on the “flying 
cord,” that Dinny Dowling threw to the per- 
formers. He dragged the boys out of the water, 
and for fear their blood might be chilled by the 
accident, he gave them an enormous thrashing 
with the dry end of the rope, just to restore 
circulation. 

As for the horse, his legs stuck through the 
bridge, and he went playing away with his feet 


188 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


on the water, as if he were accompanying himself 
in the song which he was squealing at the top of 
his voice. Half the saws, hatchets, ropes, and 
poles in the parish were employed to pull him out, 
and he was rescued with no other loss than some 
skin and a good deal of hair. 

Of course Andy did not venture on taking 
Owny’s horse home, so the miller sent him to his 
owner with an account of the accident. Andy for 
years kept out of Owny Doyle’s way, and at any 
time that the boy’s presence was troublesome, the 
inconvenienced party had only to say; “Is n’t 
that Owny Doyle coming this way?” and Andy 
fled for his life. 

Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 


HANDY ANDY WAITS ON THE SQUIRE 

When Andy grew up to be “a brave lump of a 
boy ” his mother thought he was old enough to do 
something for himself; so she took him one day 
along with her to the Squire’s, and waited outside 
the door, loitering up and down the yard behind 
the house among a crowd of beggars, and great 
lazy dogs that were thrusting their heads into 
every iron pot that stood outside the kitchen 
door, until chance might give her “a sight o’ the 
Squire afore he wint out, or afore he wint in.” 

After spending her entire day in this idle way. 


HANDY ANDY AND THE SQUIRE 189 

at last the Squire made his appearance and Judy 
presented her son, who kept scraping his foot, and 
pulling his forelock, — that stuck out like a 
piece of ragged thatch from his forehead, — mak- 
ing his obeisance to the Squire, while his mother 
was sounding his praises for being the “handiest 
craythur alive, — and so willin’, — nothin’ comes 
wrong to him.” 

“I suppose the English of all this is, you want 
me to take him?” said the Squire. 

“Troth, an’ your honour, that’s just it, — if 
your honour would be plazed.” 

“What can he do?” 

“Anything, your honour.” 

“That means nothing, I suppose,” said the 
Squire. 

“Oh! no, sir. Everything, I mane, that you 
would desire him to do.” 

To every one of these assurances on his mother’s 
part, Andy made a bow and a scrape. 

“Can he take care of horses?” 

“The best of care, sir,” said the mother; while 
the miller who was standing behind the Squire, 
waiting for orders, made a grimace at Andy, who 
was obliged to cram his face into his hat to hide 
the laugh, which he could hardly smother from 
being heard, as well as seen. 

“Let him come, then, and help in the stables, 
and we’ll see what we can do.” 


190 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


‘‘May the Lord,” — 

“That’ll do, — there, now go.” 

“Oh, sure, but I’ll pray for you, and,” — 

“Will you go.^” 

“And may the angels make your honour’s bed 
this blessed night, I pray. ” 

“If you don’t go, your son shan’t come.” 

Judy and her hopeful boy turned to the right 
about in double-quick time, and hurried down the 
avenue. 

The next day Andy was duly installed into his 
office of stable-helper; and, as he was a good rider, 
he was soon made whipper-in to the hounds, for 
there was a want of such a functionary in the 
establishment. Andy’s boldness in this capacity 
soon made him a favourite with the Squire, who 
was one of those rollicking boys on the pattern of 
the old school, who scorned the attentions of a 
regular valet, and let any one that chance threw 
in his way bring him his boots, or his hot water 
for shaving, or his coat, whenever it was brushed. 

One morning, Andy, who was very often the 
attendant on such occasions, came to his room 
with hot water. He tapped at the door. 

“Who’s that.^” said the Squire, who had just 
risen, and did not know but it might be one of the 
women servants. 

“It’s me, sir.” 

“Oh — Andy! Come in.” 


HANDY ANDY AND THE SQUHIE 191 

“Here’s the hot water, sir,” said Andy, bearing 
an enormous tin can. 

“Why, what makes you bring that enormous 
tin can here? You might as well bring the stable- 
bucket!” 

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Andy, retreat- 
ing. 

In two minutes more Andy came back, and, 
tapping at the door, put in his head cautiously, 
and said : — 

“The maids in the kitchen, your honour, say 
there’s not so much hot water ready.” 

“Did I not see it a moment since in your hand?” 

“Yis, sir, but that’s not nigh the full of the 
stable-bucket.” 

“Go along, you stupid thief! and get me some 
hot water directly.” 

“Will the can do, sir?” 

“Aye, anything, so you make haste.” 

Off posted Andy, and back he came with the 
can. 

“Where’ll I put it, sir?” 

“Throw this out,” said the Squire handing 
Andy a jug containing some cold water, meaning 
the jug to be replenished with the hot. 

Andy took the jug, and the window of the room 
being open, he very deliberately threw the jug out. 
The Squire stared with wonder, and at last said : — 

“What did you do that for? ” 


192 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Sure you towld me to throw it out, sir/’ 

“Go out of this, you thick-headed villain!” said 
the Squire, throwing his boots at Andy’s head. 
Andy retreated, and thought himself a very ill- 
used person. 

Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 


HANDY ANDY GOES FOR THE MAIL 

“Ride into town, and see if there’s a letter for 
me,” said the Squire one day to our hero. 

“Yis, sir.” 

“You know where to go? ” 

“To the town, sir.” 

“But do you know where to go in the town?” 

“No, sir.” 

“And why don’t you ask, you stupid thief?” 

“Sure, I’d find out, sir.” 

“Did n’t I often tell you to ask what you’re to 
do, when you don’t know? ” 

“Yis, sir.” 

“And why don’t you?” 

“I don’t like to be throublesome, sir.” 

“Confound you!” said the Squire; though he 
could not help laughing at Andy’s excuse for 
remaining in ignorance. 

“Well,” continued he, “go to the post office. 
You know the post office, I suppose? ” 

“Yis, sir, where they sell gunpowder.” 


HANDY ANDY AND THE MAH. 193 

“You’re right for once,” said the Squire. “Go 
then to the post office, and ask for a letter for me. 
Remember — not gunpowder, but a letter.” 

“Yis, sir,” said Andy, who got astride of his 
hack and trotted away to the post office. 

On arriving at the shop of the postmaster (for 
that person carried on a brisk trade in groceries, 
gimlets, broadcloth, and linen-drapery), Andy 
presented himself at the counter, and said: — 

“I want a letther, sir, if you plaze.” 

“Who do you want it for?” said the post- 
master, in a tone which Andy considered an ag- 
gression upon the sacredness of private life; so 
Andy thought the coolest contempt he could 
throw upon the prying impertinence of the post- 
master was to repeat his question. 

“I want a letther, sir, if you plaze.” 

“And who do you want it for?” repeated the 
postmaster. 

“What’s that to you?” said Andy. 

The postmaster laughing at his simplicity told 
him he could not tell what letter to give him un- 
less he told him the direction. 

“The directions I got was to get a letther here 
— that’s the directions.” 

“Who gave you those directions?” 

“The masther.” 

“And who’s your master?” 

“What consarn is that o’ yours?” 


194 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“"WTiy, you stupid rascal! if you don’t tell me 
his name, how can I give you a letter?” 

“You could give it if you liked; but you’re 
fond of axin’ impident questions, bekase you think 
I’m simple.” 

“Go along out o’ this! Your master must be as 
great a goose as yourself, to send such a mes- 
senger.” 

“Bad luck to your impidence!” said Andy, 
“is it Squire Egan you dar to say goose to?” 

“Oh, Squire Egan’s your master, then?” 

“Yis, have you anything to say agin it?” 

“Only that I never saw you before.” 

“Faith, then you ’ll never see me agin if I have 
my own consint.” 

“I won’t give you any letter for the Squire, 
unless I know you’re his servant. Is there any 
one in the town knows you?” 

“Plenty,” said Andy, “it’s not every one is as 
ignorant as you.” 

Just at this moment a person to whom Andy 
was known entered the house, who vouched to the 
postmaster that he might give Andy the Squire’s 
letter, adding; “Have you got one for me?” 

“Yes, sir,” said the postmaster, producing 
one. “Fourpence.” 

The gentleman paid the fourpence postage, 
and left the shop with his letter. 

“Here’s a letter for the Squire,” said the 


HANDY ANDY AND THE MAH. 195 

postmaster, “you Ve to pay me elevenpence post- 
age. 

‘‘What ’ud I pay elevenpence for?” 

“For postage.” 

“To the devil wid you! Did n’t I see you give 
Mr. Durfy a letther for fourpence this minit, and 
a bigger letther than this? And now you want me 
to pay elevenpence for this scrap of a thing. Do 
you think I’m a fool?” 

“No: but I’m sure of it,” said the post- 
master. 

“Well, you’re welkum to be sure, sure; — but 
don’t be delayin’ me now. Here’s fourpence for 
you, and gi’ me the letther.” 

“Go along, you stupid thief!” said the post- 
master, taking up the letter, and going to serve a 
customer with a mouse- trap. 

While this person, and many others were 
served, Andy lounged up and down the shop, 
every now and then putting his head in the 
middle of the customers, and saying: — 

“Will you gi’ me the letther?” 

He waited for about half an hour, in defiance 
of the postmaster, and at last left, when he found 
it impossible to get common justice for his master, 
which he thought he deserved as well as another 
man; for under this impression, Andy determined 
to give no more than the fourpence. 

The Squire in the mean time was getting im- 


196 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


patient for his return, and when Andy made his 
appearance, asked if there was a letter for him. 

“There is, sir,” said Andy. 

“Then give it to me.” 

“I have n’t it, sir.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He would n’t give it to me, sir.” 

“Who would n’t give it to you?” 

“That owld chate beyant in the town, — want- 
ing to charge me double for it.” 

“Maybe it’s a double letter. Why did n’t you 
pay what he asked, sir?” 

“Arrah! sir! why would I let you be chated? 
It’s not a double letther at all; not above half 
the size o’ one Mr. Durfy got before my face for 
fourpence.” 

“You ’ll provoke me to break your neck some 
day, you vagabond! Ride back for your life, you 
stupid thief, and pay whatever he asks, and get 
me the letter.” 

“Why, sir, I tell you he was sellin’ them before 
my face for fourpence a-piece.” 

“Go back, you scoundrel! or I’ll horsewhip 
you; and if you’re longer than an hour. I’ll have 
you ducked in the horse-pond.” 

Andy vanished, and made a second visit to the 
post office. When he arrived, two other persons 
were getting letters, and the postmaster was 
selecting the epistles for each, from a large parcel 


HANDY ANDY AND THE MAIL 197 

that lay before him on the counter; at the same 
time many shop customers were waiting to be 
served. 

“I’m come for that letther,” said Andy. 

“I’ll attend to you by-and-by.” 

“Themasther’s in a hurry.” 

“Let him wait till his hurry ’s over.” 

“He’ll murther me if I’m not back soon.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

While the postmaster went on with such pro- 
voking answers to these appeals for despatch, 
Andy’s eye caught the heap of letters which lay 
on the counter; so while certain weighing of soap 
and tobacco was going forward, he contrived to 
become possessed of two letters from the heap, 
and, having effected that, waited patiently enough 
till it was the great man’s pleasure to give him the 
missive directed to his master. 

Then did Andy bestride his hack, and in 
triumph at his trick on the postmaster rattled 
along the road homeward as fast as the beast 
could carry him. He came into the Squire’s 
presence, his face beaming with delight, and an 
air of self-satisfied superiority in his manner, 
quite unaccountable to his master, until he pulled 
forth his hand, which had been grubbing up his 
prizes from the bottom of his pocket; and, holding 
three letters over his head, while he said, “Look 
at that!” he next slapped them down under his 


198 THE JOLLY BOOK 

broad fist on the table before the Squire, say- 
ing:— 

“Well! if he did make me pay elevenpence I 
brought your honour the worth o’ your money 
anyhow.” 

And Andy walked out of the room with an air 
of supreme triumph, having laid the letters on the 
table, and left the Squire staring after him in 
perfect amazement. 

Samuel Loveb, Handy Andy. 


SELLING THE HORSES 

AS RELATED BY THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD 

I 

MOSES’ BARGAIN 

As we were now about to hold up our heads a 
little higher in the world, my wife proposed that 
it would be proper to sell the colt, which was 
grown old, at a neighbouring fair, and buy us 
a horse that would carry single or double upon 
an occasion, and make a pretty appearance at 
church, or upon a visit. This at first I opposed 
stoutly, but it was stoutly defended. However, 
as I weakened, my antagonist gained strength, 
till at last it was resolved to part with him. 

As the fair happened on the following day, I 
had intentions of going myself; but my wife per- 


SELLING THE HORSES 


suaded me that I had got a cold, and nothing 
could prevail upon her to permit me from home. 

“No, my dear,” said she, “our son Moses is a 
discreet boy, and can buy and sell to a very good 
advantage; you know all our great bargains are of 
his purchasing. He always stands out and higgles, 
and actually tires them till he gets a bargain.” 

As I had some opinion of my son’s prudence, I 
was willing enough to entrust him with this com- 
mission; and the next morning I perceived his 
sisters mighty busy in fitting out Moses for the 
fair, trimming his hair, brushing his buckles, and 
cocking his hat with pins. 

The business of the toilet being over, we had at 
last the satisfaction of seeing him mounted upon 
the colt, with a deal box before him to bring 
home groceries in. 

He had on a coat made of that cloth they call 
thunder-and-lightning, which, though grown too 
short, was much too good to be thrown away. 
His waistcoat was of a gosling green, and his 
sisters had tied his hair with a broad black 
ribbon. 

We all followed him several paces from the door 
bawling after him, “Good luck! Good luck!” till 
we could see him no longer. 

The day passed by, and as it began to grow 
dark, I wondered what could keep our son so 
long at the fair, as it was now almost nightfall. 


200 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Never mind our son,” cried my wife, “ depend 
upon it he knows what he is about. I ’ll warrant 
that we’ll never see him sell his hen of a rainy 
day ! I have seen him buy such bargains as would 
amaze one. I ’ll tell you a good story about that, 
that will make you split your sides with laughing, 
— But, as I live, yonder comes Moses, without 
a horse and the box at his back.” 

As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and 
sweating under the deal box, which he had 
strapped round his shoulders like a pedlar. 

“Welcome, welcome, Moses! Well, my boy, 
what have you brought us from the fair?” 

“I have brought you myself,” cried Moses, 
with a sly look, and resting the box on the dresser. 

“Aye, Moses,” cried my wife, “that we know; 
but where is the horse?” 

“I have sold him,” cried Moses, “for three 
pounds five shillings and two-pence.” 

“Well done, my good boy,” returned she, “I 
knew you would touch them off. Between our- 
selves, three pounds five shillings and twopence 
is no bad day’s work. Come, let us have it 
then, — ” 

“I have brought back no money,” cried Moses 
again. “I have laid it all out in a bargain, and 
here it is,” pulling out a bundle from his breast; 
“here they are: a gross of green spectacles, with 
silver rims and shagreen cases.” — 


SELLING THE HORSES 


201 


“A gross of green spectacles!” repeated my 
wife in a faint voice. “And you have parted with 
the colt, and brought us back nothing but a gross 
of green paltry spectacles ! ” 

“Dear mother,” cried the boy, “why won’t you 
listen to reason? I had them a dead bargain, or I 
should not have brought them. The silver rims 
alone will sell for double the money.” — 

“A fig for the silver rims,” cried my wife in a 
passion; “I dare swear they won’t sell for above 
half the money at the rate of broken silver, five 
shillings an ounce.” 

“You need be under no uneasiness,” cried I, 
“about selling the rims, for they are not worth 
sixpence; for I perceive they are only copper 
varnished over.” 

“What!” cried my wife, “not silver! the rims 
not silver?” 

“No,” cried I, “no more silver than your 
saucepan.” 

“And so,” returned she, “we have parted with 
the colt, and have only got a gross of green 
spectacles with copper rims and shagreen cases? 
A murrain take such trumpery! The blockhead 
has been imposed upon, and should have known 
his company better.” 

“There, my dear,” cried I, **you are wrong; he 
should not have known them at all.” 

“Marry, hang the idiot!” returned she, “to 


202 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


bring me such stuff ! if I had them I would throw 
them in the fire.” 

“There, again, you are wrong, my dear,” cried 
I, “for though they be copper, we will keep them 
by us, as copper spectacles, you know, are better 
than nothing.” 

By this time the unfortunate Moses was un- 
deceived. He now saw that he had been imposed 
upon by a prowling sharper, who, observing his 
figure, had marked him for an easy prey. I there- 
fore asked the circumstances of his deception. 

He sold the horse, it seems, and walked the 
fair in search of another. A reverend-looking man 
brought him to a tent, under pretence of having 
one to sell. 

“Here,” continued Moses, “we met another 
man, very well dressed, who desired to borrow 
twenty pounds upon these, saying that he wanted 
money, and would dispose of them for a third of 
the value. The first gentleman, who pretended to 
be my friend, whispered to me to buy them, and 
cautioned me not to let so good an offer pass. I 
sent for our neighbour, Mr. Flamborough, and 
they talked him up as finely as they did me; and 
so at last we were persuaded to buy the two gross 
between us.” 


SELLING THE HORSES 


203 


II 

MY BARGAIN 

Our son Moses having met with so mortifying 
a misfortune, and having failed to return with the 
money necessary to relieve our household anxie- 
ties, we debated in full family council what were 
the easiest methods of raising money, or, more 
properly speaking, what we could most conven- 
iently sell. The deliberation was soon finished: it 
was found that our remaining horse was utterly 
useless for the plough without his companion, and 
<equally unfit for the road, as wanting an eye. It 
was therefore determined that we should dispose 
of him at the neighbouring fair; and, to prevent 
imposition, that I should go with him myself. 

Though this was one of the first mercantile 
transactions of my life, yet I had no doubt about 
acquitting myself with reputation. The opinion 
a man forms of his own prudence is measured by 
that of the company he keeps; and as mine was 
most in the family way, I had conceived no 
unfavourable sentiments of my worldly wisdom. 
My wife, however, next morning at parting, after 
I had got some paces from the door, called me 
back to advise me, in a whisper, to have all my 
eyes about me. 

I had, in the usual forms, when I came to the 
fair, put my horse through all his paces, but for 


204 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


some time had no bidders. At last a chapman 
approached, and after he had for a good while 
examined the horse round, finding him blind of 
one eye, he would have nothing to say to him. A 
second came up, but observing he had a spavin, 
declared he would not take him for the driving 
home. A third perceived he had a windgall, and 
would bid no money. A fourth knew by his eye 
that he had the botts. A fifth wondered what a 
plague I could do at the fair with a blind, spav- 
ined, galled hack, that was only fit to be cut up 
for a dog kennel. 

By this time I began to have a most hearty 
contempt for the poor animal myself, and was 
almost ashamed at the approach of every cus- 
tomer; for though I did not entirely believe all 
the fellows told me, yet I reflected that the 
number of witnesses was a strong presumption 
they were right. 

I was in this mortifying situation when a 
brother clergyman, an old acquaintance, who had 
also business at the fair, came up; and, shaking 
me by the hand, proposed adjourning to a public- 
house. I readily closed with the offer, and enter- 
ing we were shown into a little back room, where 
there was only a venerable old man, who sat 
wholly intent over a large book, which he was 
reading. I never in my life saw a figure that 
prepossessed me more favourably. His locks of 


SELLING THE HORSES 


205 


silver grey venerably shaded his temples, and his 
green old age seemed to be the result of health 
and benevolence. 

However, his presence did not interrupt our 
conversation: my friend and I discoursed on the 
various turns of fortune we had met, my last 
pamphlet, the archdeacon’s reply, and the hard 
measure that was dealt me. But pur attention 
was in a short time taken off, by the appearance 
of a youth, who, entering the room, respectfully 
said something softly to the old stranger. 

“Make no apologies, my child,” said the old 
man, “to do good is a duty we owe to all our 
fellow-creatures. Take this, I wish it were more: 
but five pounds will relieve your distress, and you 
are welcome.” 

The modest youth shed tears of gratitude, and 
yet his gratitude was scarce equal to mine. I 
could have hugged the good old man in my arms, 
his benevolence pleased me so. He continued to 
read, and we resumed our conversation, until my 
companion, after some time recollecting that he 
had business to transact in the fair, promised to 
soon be back; adding that he always desired to 
have as much of Dr. Primrose’s company as 
possible. 

The old gentleman, hearing my name men- 
tioned, seemed to look at me with attention for 
some time, and when my friend was gone, most 


206 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


respectfully demanded if I was in any way re- 
lated to the great Primrose who had been the 
bulwark of the Church. 

Never did my heart feel sincerer rapture than 
at that moment. “Sir,” cried I, “the applause of 
so good a man as I am sure you are, adds to that 
happiness in my breast which your benevolence 
has already excited. You behold before you, sir, 
that Dr. Primrose, whom you have been pleased 
to call great.” 

“Sir,” cried the stranger, struck with awe, “I 
fear I have been too familiar but you’ll forgive 
my curiosity, sir, I beg pardon.” 

“Sir,” cried I, grasping his hand, “you are so 
far from displeasing me by your familiarity, that 
I must beg you’ll accept my friendship, as you 
already have my esteem.” 

“Then with gratitude I accept the offer,” cried 
he, squeezing me by the hand, “thou glorious 
pillar of unshaken orthodoxy ! and do I behold, — ” 
I here interrupted what he was going to say, for 
though as an author I could digest no small share 
of flattery, yet now my modesty would permit no 
more. 

We talked upon several subjects and his con- 
versation was sufficient to show me that he was 
a man of learning, and I now reverenced him the 
more. The subject insensibly changed from 
learned topics to the business which brought us 


^ SELLING THE HORSES 207 

both to the fair. Mine, I told him, was to sell a 
horse, and, very luckily, indeed, his was to buy 
one for one of his tenants. 

My horse was soon produced; and, in fine, we 
struck a bargain. Nothing now remained but to 
pay me, and he accordingly pulled out a thirty 
pound note, and bid me change it. Not being in 
a capacity of complying with this demand, he 
ordered his footman to be called up, who made 
his appearance in a very genteel livery. 

“Here, Abraham,” cried he, “go and get gold 
for this; you’ll do it at neighbour Jackson’s or 
anywhere.” 

While the fellow was gone, he entertained me 
with a pathetic harangue on the great scarcity of 
silver, which I undertook to improve by deploring 
also the great scarcity of gold, so that by the time 
Abraham returned, we had both agreed that 
money was never so hard to be come at as now. 
Abraham returned to inform us that he had been 
over the whole fair, and could not get change, 
though he had offered half-a-crown for doing it. 

This was a very great disappointment to us all, 
but the old gentleman having paused a little, 
asked me if I knew one Solomon Flamborough in 
my part of the country. Upon replying that he 
was my next-door neighbour, “If that be the 
case,” then returned he, “I believe we shall deal. 
You shall have a draft upon him, payable at 


208 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


sight; and, let me tell you, he is as warm a man 
as any within five miles round him. Honest 
Solomon and I have been acquainted for many 
years together.” 

A draft upon my neighbour was to me the same 
as money. The draft was signed, and put into my 
hands, and Mr. Jenkinson, the old gentleman, his 
man Abraham, and my horse, old Blackberry, 
trotted off very well pleased with each other. 

After a short interval, being left to reflection, I 
began to recollect that I had done wrong in tak- 
ing a draft from a stranger, and so prudently 
resolved upon following the purchaser, and hav- 
ing back my horse. But this was now too late. 

I therefore made directly homewards, resolving 
to get the draft changed into money at my friend’s 
as fast as possible. I found my honest neigh- 
bour smoking his pipe at his own door, and in- 
forming him that I had a small bill upon him, he 
read it twice over. 

“You can read the name, I suppose,” cried I. 
“Ephraim Jenkinson?” 

“Yes,” returned he, “the name is written plain 
enough, and I know the gentleman too, — the 
greatest rascal under the canopy of heaven. This 
is the very same rogue who sold us the spectacles. 
Was he not a venerable-looking man, with grey 
hair, and no flaps to his pocket-holes? And did he 
not talk a long string of learning? ” 


SELLING THE HORSES 


209 


To this I replied with a groan. 

“Aye,” continued he, “he has but that one 
piece of learning in the world, and he always talks 
it away whenever he finds a scholar in company. 
But I know the rogue, and will catch him yet.” 

Though I was already sufficiently mortified, my 
greatest struggle was to come, in facing my wife 
and daughters. No truant was ever more afraid 
of returning to school, there to behold the master’s 
visage, than I was of going home. I was deter- 
mined, however, to anticipate their fury, by first 
falling into a passion myself. 

Oliver Goldsmith, Vicar of Wakefield. 


TALES OF BEASTS AND BIRDS 
BAD AND BLITHE 









now BROTHER RABBIT FRIGHTENED 
HIS NEIGHBOURS 


“In dem days,” said Uncle Remus to the little 
boy, “de creeturs wuz same lak folks. Dey had 
der ups en dey had der downs; dey had der hard 
times, and dey had der saf’ times. Some seasons 
der craps ’ud be good, en some seasons dey’d be 
bad. Brer Rabbit, he far’d lak de res’ un um. 
W’at he’d make, dat he’d spen’. One season he 
tuck ’n made a fine chance er goobers, en he ’low, 
he did, dat ef dey fetch ’im anywhars nigh de 
money w’at he ’speck dey would, he go ter town 
en buy de truck w’at needcessity call fer. 

“ He ain’t no sooner say dat dan ole Miss Rabbit, 
she vow, she did, dat it be a scannul en a shame ef 
he don’t whirl in en git sevin tin cups fer de chil- 
luns fer ter drink out’n, en sevin tin plates fer ’m 
fer ter sop out’n, en a coffee-pot fer de fambly. 
Brer Rabbit say dat des zackly w’at he gwine 
do, en he ’low, he did, dat he gwine ter town 
de cornin’ We ’n’sday . 

“Brer Rabbit wa’n’t mo’n out’n de gate ’fo’ 
Miss Rabbit, she slap on ’er bonnet, she did, en 
rush ’cross ter Miss Mink house, en she ain’t bin 
dar a minnit ’fo’ she up’n tell Miss Mink dat Brer 
Rabbit done promise ter go ter town We’n’sday 


214 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


coinin’ en git de chilluns sump’n’. Co’se, w’en 
Mr. Mink come home, Miss Mink she up ’n ’low 
she want ter know w’at de reason he can’t buy 
sump’n’ fer his chilluns same ez Brer Rabbit do 
fer his’n, en dey quo’ll en quo’ll des lak folks. 

“Atter dat Miss Mink she kyar de news ter 
Miss Fox, en den Brer Fox he tuck’n got a rakin’ 
over de coals. Miss Fox she tell Miss Wolf, en 
Miss Wolf she tell Miss B’ar, en ’twa’n’t long ’fo’ 
ev’ybody in dem diggin’s know dat Brer Rabbit 
gwine ter town de cornin’ We’n’sday fer ter git his 
chilluns sump’n’; en all de yuther creeturs’ chil- 
luns ax der ma w’at de reason der pa can’t git dem 
sump’n’. So dar it went. 

“Brer Fox, en Brer Wolf, en Brer B’ar, dey 
make up der mines, dey did, dat ef dey gwine ter 
ketch up wid Brer Rabbit, dat wuz de time, en 
dey fix up a plan dat dey ’d lay fer Brer Rabbit 
en nab ’im w’en he come back fum town. Dey 
tuck ’n make all der ’rangerments, en wait fer de 
day. 

“Sho’ nuff, w’en We’n’sday come. Brer Rabbit 
e’t he brekkus ’fo’ sun-up, en put out fer town. 
He tuck’ii got hisse’f a dram, en a plug er ter- 
barker, en a pocket-hankcher, en he got de ole 
’oman a coffee-pot, en he got de chillun sevin tin 
cups en sevin tin plates, en den todes sundown he 
start back home. He walk ’long, he did, feelin’ 
mighty biggity, but bimeby w’en he git sorter 


BROTHER RABBIT’S NEIGHBOURS 215 


tired, lie sot down und’ a black-jack tree, en ’gun 
to fan hisse’f wid one er der platters. 

“W’iles he doin’ dis a little bit er teenchy sap- 
sucker run up ’n down de tree en keep on makin’ 
mighty quare fuss. Atter w’ile Brer Rabbit tuck ’n 
shoo at ’im wid de platter. Seem lak dis make de 
teenchy little sap-sucker mighty mad, en he rush 
out on a lim’ right over Brer Rabbit, en he sing 
out: — ^ 

“ *Pilly-pee, 'pilly-wee! 

1 see w’at he no see / 

I see, jyilly-pee, 

I see, w’at he no seel’ 

“He keep on singin’ dis, he did, twel Brer 
Rabbit ’gun ter look ’roun’, en he ain’t no sooner 
do dis dan he see marks in de san’ whar sum un 
done bin dar ’fo’ ’im, en he look little closer en 
den he see w’at de sap-sucker drivin’ at. He 
scratch his head. Brer Rabbit did, en he ’low ter 
hisse’f : — 

“‘Ah-yi! Yer whar Brer Fox bin settin’, en dar 
de print er he nice bushy tail. Yer whar Brer 
Wolf bin settin’, en dar de print er he fine long 
tail. Yer whar Brer B’ar bin squattin’ on he 
hunkers, en dar de print w’ich he ain’t got no tail. 
Dey er all bin yer, en I lay dey er hidin’ out in 
de big gully down dar in de holler.’ 

“Wid dat, ole man Rab tuck’n put he truck in 
de bushes, en den he run ’way ’roun’ fer ter see 


216 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


w’at he kin see. Sho ’nuff, w’en Brer Rabbit git 
over agin de big gully down in de holler, dar dey 
wuz. Brer Fox, he ’uz on one side er de road, en 
Brer Wolf ’uz on de t’er side; en ole Brer B’ar he 
’uz quiled up in de gully takin’ a nap. 

“Brer Rabbit, he tuck’n peep at um, he did, 
en he lick he foot en roach back he h’ar, en den 
hoi’ his ban’s ’cross he mouf en laff lak some chil- 
luns does w’en dey t’ink dey er foolin’ der ma. 

“Brer Rabbit, he seed um all dar, en he tuck’n 
grin, he did, en den he lit out ter whar he done lef ’ 
he truck, en w’en he git dar he dance ’roun’ en slap 
hisse’f on de leg, en make all sorts er kuse motions. 
Den he go ter wuk en tu’n de coffee-pot upside 
down en stick it on he head; den he run he gallus ^ 
thoo de han’les er de cups, en sling um crosst he 
shoulder; den he ’vide de platters, some in one 
han’ en some in de yuther. Atter he git good en 
ready, he crope ter de top er de hill, he did, en 
tuck a runnin’ start, en flew down like a harry- 
cane — rickety, rackety, slambang I 

“Bless yo’ soul, dem creeturs ain’t year no fuss 
lak dat, en dey ain’t seed no man w’at look lak 
Brer Rabbit do, wid de coffee-pot on he head, en 
de cups a-rattlin’ on he gallus, en de platters 
a-wavin’ en a-shinnin’ in de a’r. 

“Now, mine you, ole Brer B’ar wuz layin’ off up 
de gully takin’ a nap, en de fuss skeer ’im so bad 

^ Suspenders. 


BROTHER RABBIT’S PRANK 217 

dat he make a break en run over Brer Fox. He 
rush out in de road, he did, en w’en he see de 
sight, he whirl ’roun’ en run over Brer Wolf. Wid 
der scramblin’ en der scufflin’. Brer Rabbit got 
right on um ’fo’ dey kin git away. He holler out, 
he did: — 

“‘Gimme room! Tu’n me loose! I’m ole man 
Spewter-Splutter wid long claws, en scales on 
my back! I’m snaggle-toofed en double-j’inted! 
Gimme room ! ’ 

“Eve’y time he’d fetch a whoop, he’d rattle 
de cups en slap de platters tergedder — rickety, 
rackety, slamhang I En I let you know w’en dem 
creeturs got dey lim’s tergedder dey split de win’, 
dey did dat. Ole Brer B’ar, he struck a stump w’at 
stan’ in de way, en I ain’t gwine tell you how he 
to’ it up ’kase you won’t b’leeve me, but de nex’ 
mawnin’ Brer Rabbit en his chilluns went back 
dar, dey did, en dey got nuff splinters fer ter make 
um kin’lin’ wood all de winter. Yasser! Des ea 
sho’ ez I ’m a-settin’ by dish yer ha’th.” 

Joel Chandler Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus. 


BROTHER RABBIT’S ASTONISHING 
PRANK 

“One time,” said Uncle Remus to the little 
boy, “ole Brer Rabbit sorter tuck a notion, he did, 
dat he ’d pay Brer B’ar a call, en no sooner do de 


218 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


notion strike ’im dan he pick hisse’f up en put out 
fer Brer B’ar house. 

“Brer Rabbit make he call w’en Brer B’ar en 
his fambly wuz off fum home. He sot down by de 
road, en he see um go by, — ole Brer B’ar en ole 
Miss B’ar, en der two twin-chilluns, w’ich one 
un um wuz name Kubs en de ’t’er one wuz name 
Klibs. 

“Ole Brer B’ar en Miss B’ar, dey went ’long 
ahead, en Kubs en Klibs, dey come shufflin’ en 
scramblin’ ’long behime. W’en Brer Rabbit see 
dis, he say ter hisse’f dat he ’speck he better go 
see how Brer B’ar gittin’ on; en off he put. En 
’twa’n’t long n’er ’fo’ he ’uz ransackin’ de prem- 
muses same like he ’uz sho’ ’nuff patter-roller.^ 

“W’iles he wuz gwine ’roun’ peepin’ in yer en 
pokin’ in dar, he got ter foolin’ ’mong de shelfs, en 
a bucket er honey w’at Brer B’ar got hid in de 
cubbud fall down en spill on top er Brer Rab- 
bit, en little mo’n he’d er bin drown. Fum head 
ter heels dat creetur wuz kiver’d wid honey; 
he wa’n’t des only bedobble wid it, he wuz des 
kiver’d. He hatter set dar en let de natal sweet- 
ness drip outen he eyeballs ’fo’ he kin see he han’ 
befo’ ’im, en den, atter he look ’roun’ little, he say 
to hisse’f, sezee: — 

“‘Heyo, yer! W’at I gwine do now? Ef I go 
out in de sunshine, de bumly-bees en de flies dey ’ll 

^ Patrol. 


BROTHER RABBIT’S PRANK 219 


sworn up ’n take me, en if I stay yer, Brer B’ar’ll 
come back en ketch me, en I dunner w’at in de 
name er gracious I gwine do.’ 

“Ennyhow, bimeby a notion strike Brer Rab- 
bit, en he tip ’long twel he git in de woods, en 
w’en he git out dar, w’at he do but roll in de 
leafs en trash en try fer ter rub de honey off ’n ’im 
dat a- way. He roll, he did, en de leafs dey stick; 
Brer Rabbit roll, en de leafs dey stick, en he keep 
on rollin’ en de leafs keep on stickin’, twel atter 
w’ile Brer Rabbit wuz de mos’ owdashus-lookin’ 
creetur w’at you ever sot eyes on. 

“Brer Rabbit, he jump ’roun’, he did, en try 
ter shake de leafs off ’n ’im, but de leafs, dey aint 
gwine ter be shuck off. Brer Rabbit, he shake en 
he shiver, but de leafs dey stick; en de capers dat 
creetur cut up out dar in de woods by he own- 
alone se’f wuz scan’lous — dey wuz dat; dey wuz 
scan’lous. 

“Brer Rabbit see dis wa’n’t gwine ter do, en he 
’low ter hisse’f dat he better be gittin’ on todes 
home, en off he put. I ’speck you done year talk 
ez deze yer booggers w’at gits atter bad chilluns,” 
continued Uncle Remus, in a tone so seriously con- 
fidential as to be altogether depressing; “well, 
den, des ’zactly dat a- way Brer Rabbit look, en ef 
you’d er seed ’im you’d er made sho’ he de gran’- 
daddy er all de booggers. 

“Brer Rabbit pace ’long, he did, en ev’y motion 


220 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


he made, de leafs dey ’d go swishy-swushy, splushy- 
splishy, en, fum de fuss he make en de way he 
look, you’d er tuck ’im ter be de mos’ suvvigus 
varment w’at disappear fum de face er de yeth 
sence old man Noah let down de draw-bars er de 
ark en tu’n de creeturs loose; en I boun’ ef you’d 
er struck up long wid ’im, you ’d er been mighty 
good en glad ef you ’d er got off wid dat. 

“Des fus’ man w’at Brer Rabbit come up wid 
wuz ole Sis Cow, en no sooner is she lay eyes on 
’im dan she hi’st up ’er tail in de elements, en put 
out like a pack er dogs wuz atter ’er. Dis make 
Brer Rabbit laff, kaze he know dat w’en a ole 
settle’ ’oman like Sis Cow run ’stracted in de 
broad open day-time, dat dey mus’ be sump’n’ 
mighty kuse ’bout dem leafs en dat honey, en he 
keep on a-rackin’ down de road. 

“De nex’ man w’at he meet wuz a black gal 
tollin’ ^ a whole passel er plantation shotes,^ en 
w’en de gal see Brer Rabbit come prancin’ ’long, 
she fling down ’er basket er corn en des fa’rly fly, 
en de shotes, dey tuck thoo de woods, en sech 
n’er racket ez dey kick up wid der runnin’, en der 
snortin’, en der squealin’ ain’t never bin year in dat 
settlement needer befo’ ner since. Hit keep on 
dis a- way long ez Brer Rabbit meet anybody — 
dey des broke en run like de Ole Boy wuz atter um. 

“C’ose dis make Brer Rabbit feel monst’us big- 

' Dropping corn. ^ Young pigs. 


BROTHER RABBIT’S PRANK 221 


gity, en he ’low ter hisse’f dat he ’speck he better 
drap ’roun’ en skummish in de neighbourhoods er 
Brer Fox house. En w’iles he wuz stannin’ dar 
runnin’ dis ’roun’ in he min’, yer come ole Brer 
B’ar en all er he fambly. Brer Rabbit, he git 
crossways de road, he did, en he sorter sidle todes 
um. Ole Brer B’ar, he stop en look, but Brer 
Rabbit, he keep on sidlin’ todes um. Ole Miss 
B’ar, she stan’ it long ez she kin, en den she fling 
down ’er parrysol en tuck a tree. 

“Brer B’ar look lak he gwine ter stan’ his 
groun’, but Brer Rabbit he jump straight up in 
de a’r en gin hisse’f a shake, en, bless yo’ soul, 
honey! ole Brer B’ar make a break, en dey tells 
me he to’ down a whole panel er fence gittin’ ’way 
fum dar. En ez ter Kubs en Klibs, dey tuck der 
hats in der ban’s, en dey went skaddlin’ thoo de 
bushes des same ez a drove er bosses. 

“Brer Rabbit p’raded on down de road, en 
bimeby yer come Brer Fox en Brer Wolf, fixin’ up 
a plan fer ter nab Brer Rabbit, en dey wuz so 
intents on der confab dat dey got right on Brer 
Rabbit ’fo’ dey seed ’im; but, gentermens! w’en 
dey is ketch a glimpse un ’im, dey gun ’im all de 
room he want. Brer Wolf, he try ter show off, he 
did, kase he wanter play big ’fo’ Brer Fox, en he 
stop en ax Brer Rabbit who is he. Brer Rabbit, 
he jump up en down in de middle er de road, en 
holler out: — 


222 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“ T ’m de Wull-er-de-Wust. I ’m de Wull-er-de- 
Wust, en youer de man I’m atter!’ 

“Den Brer Rabbit jump up en down en make 
lak he gwine alter Brer Fox en Brer Wolf, en de 
way dem creeturs lit out fum dar wuz a cau- 
tion. 

“Long time atter dat, Brer Rabbit come up 
wid Brer Fox en Brer Wolf, en he git behime a 
stump. Brer Rabbit did, en holler out: — 

“‘I’m de Wull-er-de-Wust, en youer de mens 
I’m alter!’ 

“Brer Fox an Brer Wolf, dey broke, but ’fo’ 
dey got outer sight en outer year’n’ Brer Rabbit 
show hisse’f, he did, en laugh fit ter kill hisse’f.” 

Joel Chandler Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus, 


A MAD TEA-PARTY 

As Alice passed on she came in sight of an odd- 
looking house, and when she came nearer she saw 
that there was a table set out under a tree in front 
of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter 
were having tea at it. A Dormouse was sitting 
between them, fast asleep, and the two were using 
it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and 
talking over its head. 

“Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,” 
thought Alice; “only as it’s asleep, I suppose it 
does n’t mind.” 


A MAD TEA-PARTY 223 

The table was a large one, but the three were 
all crowded together at one corner of it. 

“No room! No room!” they cried out when 
they saw Alice coming. 

“There’s 'plenty of room!” said Alice indig- 
nantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair 
at one end of the table. 

“Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an 
encouraging tone. 

Alice looked all round the table, but there was 
nothing on it but tea. 

“I don’t see any wine,” she remarked. 

“There is n’t any,” said the March Hare. 

“Then it was n’t very civil of you to offer it,” 
said Alice angrily. 

“It was n’t very civil of you to sit down with- 
out being invited,” said the March Hare. 

“I did n’t know it was your table,” said Alice: 
“it’s laid for a great many more than three.” 

“Your hair wants cutting,” said the Hatter. 
He had been looking at Alice for some time with 
great curiosity, and this was his first speech. 

“You should learn not to make personal re- 
marks,” Alice said with some severity; “it’s 
very rude.” 

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hear- 
ing this; but all he said was, “Why is a raven like 
a writing-desk?” 

“Come, we shall have some fun now!” thought 


224 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Alice. “I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles — 
I believe I can guess that,” she added aloud. 

“Do you mean that you think you can find 
out the answer to it.^ ” said the March Hare. 

“Exactly so,” said Alice. 

“Then you should say what you mean,” the 
March Hare went on. 

“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least — at 
least I mean what I say — that’s the same thing, 
you know.” 

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. 
“Why, you might just as well say that ‘I see 
what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I 
see’!” 

“You might just as well say,” added the March 
Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing 
as ‘I get what I like’!” 

“You might just as well say,” added the Dor- 
mouse, which seemed to be talking in its sleep, 
“that ‘ I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing 
as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!” 

“It is the same thing with you,” said the Hat- 
ter, and here the conversation dropped, and the 
party sat silent for a minute, while Alice thought 
over all she could remember about ravens and 
writing-desks, which was n’t much. 

The Hatter was the first to break the silence. 
“What day of the month is it? ” he said, turning to 
Alice. He had taken his watch out of his pocket. 


A MAD TEA-PARTY 225 

and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every 
now and then, and holding it to his ear. 

Alice considered a little, and then said: “The 
fourth.” 

“ Two days wrong ! ” sighed the Hatter. “ I told 
you butter would n’t suit the works!” he added, 
looking angrily at the March Hare. 

“It was the best butter,” the March Hare 
meekly replied. 

“Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as 
well,” the Hatter grumbled; “you should n’t have 
put it in with the bread-knife.” 

The March Hare took the watch and looked 
at it gloomily; then he dipped it into his cup of 
tea, and looked at it again; but he could think of 
nothing better to say than his first remark, “It 
was the best butter, you know.” 

Alice had been looking over his shoulder with 
some curiosity. “What a funny watch!” she re- 
marked. “It tells the day of the month, and 
does n’t tell what o’clock it is ! ” 

“ Why should it ” muttered the Hatter. “ Does 
your watch tell you what year it is.^^” 

“Of course not,” Alice replied very readily: 
“but that’s because it stays the same year for 
such a long time together.” 

“Which is just the case with miner said the 
Hatter. 

Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter’s 


226 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


remark seemed to her to have no sort of meaning 
in it, and yet it was certainly English. ‘T don’t 
quite understand you,” she said, as politely as 
she could. 

“The Dormouse is asleep again,” said the 
Hatter, and he pomed a little hot tea upon its 
nose. 

The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and 
said, without opening its eyes: “Of course, of 
course; just what I was going to remark myself.” 

“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter 
said, turning to Alice again. 

“No, I give it up,” Alice replied. “What’s the 
answer?” 

“I have n’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter. 

“Nor I,” said the March Hare. 

Alice sighed wearily. “I think you might do 
something better with the time,” she said, “than 
wasting it in asking riddles that have no an- 
swers.” 

“If you knew Time as well as I do,” said the 
Hatter, “you would n’t talk about wasting it. 
It’s him'^ 

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Alice. 

“Of course you don’t!” the Hatter said, tossing 
his head contemptuously. “I dare say you never 
even spoke to Time!” 

“Perhaps not,” Alice cautiously replied; “but 
I know I have to beat time when I learn music.” 


A MAD TEA-PARTY 


227 


“Ah! That accounts for it/’ said the Hatter. 
“He won’t stand beating. Now, if you only kept 
on good terms with him, he ’d do almost anything 
you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it 
were nine o’clock in the morning, just time to 
begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint 
to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! 
Half -past one, time for dinner!” 

(“I only wish it was,” the March Hare said to 
itself in a whisper.) 

“That would be grand, certainly,” said Alice 
thoughtfully; “but then — I should n’t be hun- 
gry for it, you know.” 

“Not at first, perhaps,” said the Hatter: “but 
you could keep it at half-past one as long as you 
liked.” 

“Is that the way you manage.^” Alice asked. 

The Hatter shook his head mournfully. “Not 
I!” he replied. “We quarreled last March — 
just before he went mad, you know” (pointing 
with his teaspoon at the March Hare), — “it was 
at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts, 
and I had to sing: — 

*Tiinnkle, twinkle ^ little hat ! 

How I wonder what you *re at I* 

You know the song, perhaps.?^” 

“I’ve heard something like it,” said Alice. 

“It goes on, you know,” the Hatter continued, 
“in this way: — 


228 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


* Up above the world you fly y 
Like a tea-tray in the sky. 

Twinkle, twinkle — ’ ” 

Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began 
singing in its sleep, ** Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, 
twinkle — ” and went on so long that they had to 
pinch it to make it stop. 

“Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,” said 
the Hatter, “when the Queen bawled out, ‘He’s 
murdering the time! Off with his head!’ ” 

“How dreadfully savage!” exclaimed Alice. 

“And ever since that,” the Hatter went on in 
a mournful tone, “he won’t do a thing I ask! It’s 
always six o’clock now.” 

A bright idea came into Alice’s head. “Is that 
the reason so many tea-things are put out here? ” 
she asked. 

“Yes, that’s it,” said the Hatter with a sigh; 
“it’s always tea-time, and we’ve no time to wash 
the things between whiles.” 

“Then you keep moving round, I suppose?” 
said Alice. 

“Exactly so,” said the Hatter; “as the things 
get used up.” 

“But what happens when you come to the be- 
ginning again?” Alice ventured to ask. 

“Suppose we change the subject,” the March 
Hare interrupted, yawning. “I’m getting tired of 
this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.” 


A MAD TEA-PARTY 229 

“I’m afraid I don’t know one,” said Alice rather 
alarmed at the proposal. 

“Then the Dormouse shall!” they both cried. 
“Wake up. Dormouse!” And they pinched it on 
both sides at once. 

The Dormouse slowly opened its eyes. “I 
was n’t asleep,” it said in a hoarse, feeble voice, 
“I heard every word you fellows were saying.” 

“Tell us a story!” said the March Hare. 

“Yes, please do!” pleaded Alice. 

“And be quick about it,” added the Hatter, 
“or you’ll be asleep again before it’s done.” 

“Once upon a time there were three little 
sisters,” the Dormouse began in a great hurry; 
“and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; 
and they lived at the bottom of a well — ” 

“What did they live on?” said Alice, who al- 
ways took a great interest in questions of eating 
and drinking. 

“They lived on treacle,” ^ said the Dormouse, 
after thinking a minute or two. 

“They could n’t have done that, you know,” 
Alice gently remarked. “ They’d have been ill.” 

“So they were,” said the Dormouse; ^^very ill.” 

Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such 
an extraordinary way of living would be like, but 
it puzzled her too much; so she went on, “But 
why did they live at the bottom of a well?” 

^ Molasses. 


230 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said 
to Alice, very earnestly. 

“IVe had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an 
offended tone; “so I can’t take more.” 

“You mean you can’t take Zm,” said the Hat- 
ter; “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.” 

“Nobody asked your opinion,” said Alice. 

“Who’s making personal remarks now?” the 
Hatter asked triumphantly. 

Alice did not quite know what to say to this; 
so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and- 
butter, and then turned to the Dormouse and 
repeated her question. “ Why did they live at the 
bottom of a well?” 

The Dormouse again took a minute or two to 
think about it, and then said, “It was a treacle- 
well.” 

“There’s no such thing!” Alice was beginning 
very angrily, but the Hatter and the March Hare 
went, “Sh! Sh!” and the Dormouse sulkily re- 
marked, “If you can’t be civil, you’d better finish 
the story for yourself.” 

“No, please go on!” Alice said very humbly. 
“I won’t interrupt you again. I dare say there 
may be owe.” 

“One, indeed!” said the Dormouse indignantly. 
However, he consented to go on. “And so these 
three little sisters — they were learning to draw, 
you know — ” 


A MAD TEA-PARTY 231 

“What did they draw?” said Alice, quite for- 
getting her promise. 

“Treacle,” said the Dormouse, without con- 
sidering at all, this time. 

“I want a clean cup,” interrupted the Hatter; 
“let’s all move one place on.” 

He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse 
followed him. The March Hare moved into the 
Dormouse’s place, and Alice rather unwillingly 
took the place of the March Hare. The Hatter 
was the only one who got any advantage from the 
change; and Alice was a good deal worse off than 
before, as the March Hare had just upset the 
milk- jug into his plate. 

Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, 
so she began very cautiously, “But I don’t under- 
stand. Where did they draw the treacle from?’* 

“You can draw water out of a water- well,” 
said the Hatter; “so I should think you could 
draw treacle out of a treacle- well — eh, stupid?” 

“But they were in the well,” Alice said to the 
Dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark. 

“Of course they were,” said the Dormouse; 
“well in.” 

This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let 
the Dormouse go on for some time without in- 
terrupting it. 

“They were learning to draw,” the Dormouse 
went on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it was 


232 THE JOLLY BOOK 

getting very sleepy; “and they drew all manner 
of things — everything that begins with an M — ” 

“Why with an M?” said Alice. 

“Why not?” said the March Hare. 

Alice was silent. 

The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, 
and was going off into a doze; but, on being 
pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a 
little shriek, and went on, “— that begins with 
an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and 
memory, and muchness — you know you say 
things are ‘much of a muchness’ — did you ever 
see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness!” 

“Really, now you ask me,” said Alice, very 
much confused, “I don’t think — ” 

“Then you should n’t talk,” said the Hatter. 

This piece of rudeness was more than Alice 
could bear. She got up in great disgust, and 
walked off. The Dormouse fell asleep instantly, 
and neither of the others took the least notice of 
her going, though she looked back once or twice, 
half hoping that they would call after her. The 
last time she saw them, they were trying to put 
the Dormouse into the teapot. 

“At any rate I’ll never go there again!” said 
Alice, as she picked her way through the wood. 
“It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all 
my life!” 

Lewis Carroll, Aliceas Adventures in Wonderland. 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 233 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 

Alice and the Queen came upon a Gryphon, 
lying fast asleep in the sun. ’’Up, lazy thing! 
said the Queen, “and take this young lady to see 
the Mock Turtle, and to hear his history. I must 
go back and see after some executions I have 
ordered’’; and she walked off, leaving Alice alone 
with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the 
look of the creature, but on the whole she thought 
it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go 
after that savage Queen; so she waited. 

The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes; then 
it watched the Queen till she was out of sight; 
then it chuckled. “ What fun ! ’’ said the Gryphon, 
half to itself, half to Alice. 

“What is the fun?” said Alice. 

“Why, she,” said the Gryphon. “It’s all her 
fancy, that; they never executes nobody, you 
know. Come on!” 

“Everybody says ‘come on!’ here,” thought 
Alice, as she went slowly after it; “I never was so 
ordered about before, in all my life, never!” 

They had not gone far before they saw the 
Mock Turtle in the distance, sitting sad and 
lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came 
nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart 
would break. She pitied him deeply. 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“What is his sorrow?” she asked the Gryphon. 
And the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the 
same words as before, “It’s all his fancy, that; 
he has n’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!” 

So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who 
looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but 
said nothing. 

“This here young lady,” said the Gryphon, 
“she wants for to know your history, she do.” 

“I’ll tell it her,” said the Mock Turtle in a 
deep, hollow tone. “Sit down, both of you, and 
don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.” 

So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some 
minutes. Alice thought to herself, “I don’t see 
how he can ever finish, if he does n’t begin.” But 
she waited patiently. 

“Once,” said the Mock Turtle at last, with a 
deep sigh, “I was a real Turtle.” 

These words were followed by a very long 
silence, broken only by an occasional exclamation 
of, “Hjckrrh!” from the Gryphon, and the con- 
stant heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice 
was very nearly getting up and saying, “Thank 
you. Sir! for your interesting story,” but she could 
not help thinking there must be more to come, so 
she sat still and said nothing. 

“WTien we were little,” the Mock Turtle went 
on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a 
little now and then, “ we went to school in the sea. 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 235 


The master was an old Turtle — we used to call 
him Tortoise — ” 

‘‘Why did you call him Tortoise, if he was n’t 
one?” Alice asked. 

“We called him Tortoise because he taught us,” 
said the Mock Turtle angrily. “Really you are 
very dull!” 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for ask- 
ing such a simple question,” added the Gryphon; 
and then they both sat silent and looked at poor 
Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At 
last the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, “Drive 
on, old fellow! Don’t be all day about it!” and he 
went on in these words: — 

“Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you 
may n’t believe it — ” 

“I never said I did n’t!” interrupted Alice. 

“You did,” said the Mock Turtle. 

“Hold your tongue!” added the Gryphon, be- 
fore Alice could speak again. The Mock Turtle 
went on: — 

“We had the best of educations — in fact, we 
went to school every day — ” 

^*Vve been to a day-school, too,” said Alice. 
“You need n’t be so proud as all that.” 

“With extras?” asked the Mock Turtle, a little 
anxiously. 

“Yes,” said Alice; “we learned French and 
music.” 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“And washing?” said the Mock Turtle. 

“Certainly not!” said Alice indignantly. 

“Ah ! Then yours was n’t a really good school,” 
said the Mock Turtle in a tone of great relief. 
“Now, at ours, they had, at the end of the bill, 
‘French, music, and washing — extra.’” 

“You couldn’t have wanted it much,” said 
Alice; “living at the bottom of the sea.” 

“I could n’t afford to learn it,” said the Mock 
Turtle with a sigh. “I only took the regular 
course.” 

“What was that?” inquired Alice. 

“Reeling and Writhing, of comse, to begin 
with,” the Mock Turtle replied; “and then the 
different branches of Arithmetic — Ambition, 
Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.” 

“I never heard of ‘Uglification,’” Alice ven- 
tured to say. “What is it?” 

The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in sur- 
prise. “Never heard of uglifying!” it exclaimed. 
“You know what to beautify is, I suppose?” 

“Yes,” said Alice doubtfully; “it means — to 
— make — anything — prettier.” 

“Well, then,” the Gryphon went on, “if you 
don’t know what to uglify is, you are a simpleton.” 

Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more 
questions about it; so she turned to the Mock 
Turtle, and said, “What else had you to learn?” 

“Well, there was Mystery,” the Mock Tuttle 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 237 

replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers, 
— “Mystery, ancient and modern, with Sea- 
ography; then Drawling — the Drawling-master 
was an old conger-ell, that used to come once a 
week; he taught us Drawling, Stretching, and 
Fainting in Coils.” 

“What was that like.^^” said Alice. 

“Well, I can’t show it you, myself,” the Mock 
Turtle said; “I’m too stiff. And the Gryphon 
never learnt it.” 

“Had n’t time,” said the Gryphon: “I went to 
the Classical master, though. He was an old crab, 
he was.” 

“I never went to him,” the Mock Turtle said 
with a sigh. “He taught Laughing and Grief, they 
used to say.” 

“So he did, so he did,” said the Gryphon, sigh- 
ing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces 
in their paws. 

“And how many hours a day did you do les- 
sons ” said Alice, in a hurry to change the subject. 

“Ten hours the first day,” said the Mock 
Turtle; “nine the next, and so on.” 

“What a curious plan!” exclaimed Alice. 

“That’s the reason they’re called lessons,” the 
Gryphon remarked; “because they lessen from 
day to day.” 

This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she 
thought it over a little before she made her next 


238 THE JOLLY BOOK 

remark. “Then the eleventh day must have been 
a holiday.?” 

“Of course it was,” said the Mock Turtle. 

“And how did you manage on the twelfth?” 
Alice went on eagerly. 

“That’s enough about lessons,” the Gryphon 
interrupted in a very decided tone. “Tell her 
something about the games now.” 

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the 
back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at 
Alice and tried to speak, but, for a minute or two, 
sobs choked his voice. “Same as if he had a bone 
in his throat,” said the Gryphon; and it set to 
work shaking him and punching him in the back. 
At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, 
with tears running down his cheeks, he went on 
again: — 

“You may not have lived much under the 
sea — ” (“I have n’t,” said Alice.) — “and per- 
haps you were never even introduced to a 
lobster — ” (Alice began to say, “I once 
tasted — ” but checked herself hastily, and said, 
“No, never.”) “ — so you can have no idea what 
a delightful thing a Lobster-Quadrille is!” 

“No, indeed,” said Alice. “What sort of a 
dance is it?” 

“Why,” said the Gryphon, “you first form into 
a line along the seashore — ” 

“Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle. “Seals, 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 239 


turtles, salmon, and so on; then, when you’ve 
cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way — ” 

“ That generally takes some time,” interrupted 
the Gryphon. 

‘‘ — you advance twice — ” 

“Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the 
Gryphon. 

“Of course,” the Mock Turtle said; “advance 
twice, set to partners — ” 

“ — change lobsters, and retire in same order,” 
continued the Gryphon. 

“Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle went on, 
“you throw the — ” 

“The lobsters!” shouted the Gryphon, with a 
bound into the air. 

“ — as far out to sea as you can — ” 

“Swim after them!” screamed the Gryphon. 
“Turn a somersault in the sea! ” cried the Mock 
Turtle, capering wildly about. 

“Change lobsters again!” yelled the Gryphon 
at the top of its voice. 

“Back to land again, and — that’s all the first 
figure,” said the Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping 
his voice; and the two creatures, who had been 
jumping about like mad things all this time, sat 
down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at 
Alice. 

“It must be a very pretty dance,” said Alice 
timidly. 




THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Would you like to see a little of it?” said the 
Mock Turtle. 

“Very much indeed,” said Alice. 

“Come, let’s try the first figure!” said the 
Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. “We can do it 
without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing? ” 

“Oh, you sing,” said the Gryphon. “I’ve for- 
gotten the words.” 

So they began solemnly dancing round and 
round Alice, every now and then treading on her 
toes when they passed too close, and waving their 
fore-paws to mark the time, while the Mock 
Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly: — 

“ Will you walk a little faster said a whiting to a snaily 

“ There *s a porpoise close behind us, and he ’5 treading on my 
tail. 

See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance ! 

They are waiting on the shingle — vnll you come and join the 
dance ? 

Will yoUy won't youy will yoUy won't you, will you join the 
dance ? 

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the 
dance ? 

** You can really have no notion how delightful it will be 
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters out to sea !** 
But the snail replied, **Too far, too far!" and gave a look 
askance — 

Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the 
dance. 

Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the 
dance. 

Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the 
dance. 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 241 

** What matters it how far we go ? ’’ his scaly friend replied. 

“ There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. 

The farther off from England the nearer is to France — 

Then turn not pale, beloved snail, hut come and join the dance. 
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the 
dance ? 

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the 
dance f " 

“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to 
watch,” said Alice, feeling very glad that it was 
over at last; “and I do so like that curious song 
about the whiting!” 

“Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, 
“they — you’ve seen them of course?” 

“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at 
dinn — ” she checked herself hastily. 

“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the 
Mock Turtle; “but, if you’ve seen them so often, 
of course you know what they ’re like? ” 

“I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. 
“They have their tails in their mouths — and 
they’re all over crumbs.” 

“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the 
Mock Turtle; “crumbs would all wash off in the 
sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; and 
the reason is — ” here the Mock Turtle yawned 
and shut his eyes. “Tell her about the reason and 
all that,” he said to the Gryphon. 

“The reason is,” said the Gryphon, “that they 
would go with the lobsters to the dance. So they 


242 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long 
way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. 
So they could n’t get them out again. That ’s all.” 

“Thank you,” said Alice, “it’s very interest- 
ing. I never knew so much about a whiting be- 
fore.” 

“I can tell you more than that, if you like,” 
said the Gryphon. “Do you know why it’s called 
a whiting?” 

“I never thought about it,” said Alice. 
“Why?” 

does the boots and shoes” the Gryphon re- 
plied very solemnly. 

Alice was thoroughly puzzled. “Does the boots 
and shoes!” she repeated in a wondering tone. 

“Why, what are your shoes done with?” said 
the Gryphon. “I mean, what makes them so 
shiny?” 

Alice looked down at them, and considered a 
little before she gave her answer. “They’re done 
with blacking, I believe.” 

“Boots and shoes under the sea,” the Gryphon 
went on in a deep voice, “are done with whiting. 
Now you know.” 

“And what are they made of?” Alice asked in 
a tone of great curiosity. 

“ Soles and eels, of course,” the Gryphon replied, 
rather impatiently; “any shrimp could have told 
you that.” 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 243 


“If I ’d been the whiting,” said Alice, whose 
thoughts were still running on the song, “I’d 
have said to the porpoise, ‘Keep back, please! We 
don’t want you with us ! ’” 

“They were obliged to have him with them,” 
the Mock Turtle said. “No wise fish would go 
anywhere without a porpoise.” 

“Would n’t it, really said Alice, in a tone of 
great surprise. 

“ Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle. “ Why, 
if a fish came to me, and told me he was going a 
journey, I should say, ‘With what porpoise?’” 

“Don’t you mean ‘purpose’?” said Alice. 

“I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle replied 
in an offended tone. 

Then he added, “ Come let ’s change the subject. 
I should like to hear you try and repeat some- 
thing. Tell her to begin.” 

He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it 
had some kind of authority over Alice. 

“Stand up and repeat, is the voice of the 
sluggard," ” said the Gryphon. 

“How the creatures order one about, and make 
one repeat lessons!” thought Alice. “I might 
just as well be at school at once.” However, she 
got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was 
so full of the Lobster-Quadrille, that she hardly 
knew what she was saying; and the words came 
very queer indeed : — 


244 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


is the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, 

'You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair' 

As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose 
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. 
When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark. 

And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark ; 

But, when the tide rises and sharks are around. 

His voice has a timid and tremulous sound." 

“That’s different from what I used to say when 
I was a child,” said the Gryphon. 

“Well, I never heard it before,” said the Mock 
Turtle; “but it sounds uncommon nonsense.” 

Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her 
face in her hands, wondering if anything would 
ever happen in a natural way again. 

“I should like to have it explained,” said the 
Mock Turtle. 

“She can’t explain it,” said the Gryphon 
hastily. “Go on with the next verse.” 

“But about his toes.^^” the Mock Turtle per- 
sisted. “How could he turn them out with his 
nose, you know.f^” 

“It’s the first position in dancing,” Alice said; 
but she was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, 
and longed to change the subject. 

“Go on with the next verse,” the Gryphon 
repeated; “it begins, passed hy his garden.'* 

Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt 
sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in 
a trembling voice: — 


THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY 245 

I passed hy his garden, and marked, with one eye. 

How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie; 

The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat. 

While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. 

When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon. 

Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon; 

While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl. 
And concluded the banquet by ” 

“What is the use of repeating all that stuff?’’ 
the Mock Turtle interrupted, “if you don’t ex- 
plain it as you go on? It’s by far the most con- 
fusing thing 1 ever heard!” 

“Yes, I think you’d better leave off,” said the 
Gryphon, and Alice was only too glad to do so. 

“Shall we try another figure of the Lobster- 
Quadrille?” the Gryphon went on. “Or would 
you like the Mock Turtle to sing you another 
song? ” 

“Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would 
be so kind,” Alice replied, so eagerly that the 
Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, “Hm! 
No accounting for tastes! Sing her ‘ Turtle Soup/ 
will you, old fellow?” 

The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in 
a voice choked with sobs, to sing this: — 

“ Beautiful Soup, so rich and green. 

Waiting in a hot tureen ! 

Who for such dainties would not stoop f 
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup I 
Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup I 
Beau — ootiful Soo — oop I 
Beau — ootiful Soo — oop ! 


246 THE JOLLY BOOK 

Soo — oop qf the e — e — evening^ ’ 

Beautifuly heautifvl Soup / 

“ Beautiful Soup / Who cares for fishy 
Gamey or any other dish? 

Who would not give all else for two p 
ennyworth only of beautiful Soup ? 

Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup ? 

Beau — ootiful Soo — oop I 
Beau — ootiful Soo — oop / 

Soo — oop of the e — e — eveningy 
Beautifuly beauti — ful soup!” 

“Chorus again!” cried the Gryphon, and the 
Mock Turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a 
cry of, “The trial’s beginning!” was heard in the 
distance. 

“Come on!” cried the Gryphon, and, taking 
Alice by the hand, it hurried off, without waiting 
for the end of the song. 

“What trial is it.^” Alice panted as she ran: but 
the Gryphon only answered, “Come on!” and 
ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, 
carried on the breeze that followed them, the 
melancholy words : — 

“ Soo — oop of the e — e — eveningy 
Beautifuly beautiful Soup I ” 

Lewis Carroll, Aliceas Adventures in Wonderland. 


THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE PEARL 

A BIRD-CATCHER once Spread his nets and 
caught a little nightingale. He was about to 
wring its neck, when the bird said to him: — 


NIGHTINGALE AND PEARL 247 


“What good will it do you to kill me? I am too 
small to eat. Let me go, and I will give you three 
bits of wisdom, that will be of great benefit, if 
you follow them carefully.” 

Astonished at hearing the bird speak, the man 
promised it liberty in return for its good advice. 

“Hear then, O man,” it said, “these are the 
bits of wisdom. First: never try to do things that 
cannot be done. Secondly: never grieve over that 
which is lost beyond recovery. Thirdly: never 
believe what is impossible.” 

The man, on hearing this, faithful to his prom- 
ise, let the bird go. Winging its way through the 
air it sang a most exquisite melody, and, having 
finished, it said to the bird-catcher: — 

“Truly you are a silly fellow! This day you 
have lost a great treasure! Know that in my 
stomach is a pearl bigger than the egg of an 
ostrich.” 

When the bird-catcher heard this he was filled 
with vexation at having let the bird go, and he 
immediately spread his nets again, and tried to 
catch it a second time. 

“ Come, little bird ! ” cried he, “ come to me ! and 
I will feed you with dainty morsels, and let you 
fly about anywhere you wish.” 

“You must take me for a fool!” answered the 
bird. “ And you certainly are not following my 
three rules. You are trying to snare me again 


248 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


when it cannot be done ! You are grieving because 
you have lost me forever. And you believe that 
my little stomach contains a pearl bigger than the 
egg of an ostrich when my whole body is not 
nearly so large. A fool you are, and a fool you will 
always remain!” 

And with that the nightingale flew away, and 
was gone forever. 

Gesta Romanorum, 


THE FOOLISH BRAHMIN 

A FABLE OF PILPA 

A PIOUS Brahmin, it is written, made a vow 
that on a certain day he would sacrifice a sheep, 
and on the appointed morning he went forth to 
buy one. There lived in his neighbourhood three 
rogues who knew of his vow, and laid a scheme for 
profiting by it. 

The first met him and said, “O Brahmin, wilt 
thou buy a sheep? I have one fit for sacrifice.” 

“It is for that very purpose,” said the holy man, 
“that I came forth this day.” 

Then the impostor opened a bag, and brought 
out of it an unclean beast, an ugly dog, lame and 
blind. 

Thereon the Brahmin cried out, “Wretch, who 
touchest things impure, and utterest things un- 
true, callest thou that cur a sheep?” 


THE FOOLISH BRAHMIN 249 

“Truly,” answered the other, “it is a sheep of 
the finest fleece, and of the sweetest flesh. O 
Brahmin, it will be an offering most acceptable to 
the gods.” 

“Friend,” said the Brahmin, “either thou or 
I must be blind.” 

Just then one of the accomplices came up. 
“Praise be the gods,” said this second rogue, 
“that I have been saved the trouble of going to 
the market for a sheep ! This is such a sheep as I 
wanted. For how much wilt thou sell it.^^ ” 

When the Brahmin heard this, his mind waved 
to and fro, like one swinging in the air at a holy 
festival. “Sir,” said he to the new comer, “take 
heed what thou dost; this is no sheep, but an 
unclean cur.” 

“O Brahmin,” said the new comer, “thou art 
drunk or mad.” 

At this time the third confederate drew near. 
“Let us ask this man,” said the Brahmin, “what 
the creature is, and I will stand by what he shall 
say.” 

To this the others agreed, and the Brahmin 
called out, “O Stranger, what dost thou call this 
beast? ” 

“Surely, O Brahmin,” said the knave, “it is a 
fine sheep.” 

Then the Brahmin said, “surely the gods have 
taken away my senses!” And he asked pardon of 


250 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


him who carried the dog, and bought it for a 
measure of rice and a pot of ghee, and offered it 
up to the gods; who being wroth at this unclean 
sacrifice smote him with a sore disease in all his 
joints. 

Thomas Babington Macattlat. 


THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS 

A FABLE 

Heretofore a good monarch reigned in Persia, 
whose genius being not quite extensive enough to 
govern his kingdom of himseK, he left that care 
to his Grand Vizier Atalmuc; a man of superior 
capacity, who supported the weight of that vast 
monarchy without stooping, and maintained it in 
profound peace. He had even the art of making 
the royal authority loved, as well as feared; and 
the subjects enjoyed an affectionate father in a 
Vizier, who was faithful to his prince. 

Atalmuc had among his secretaries a young 
Cashmerian, called Zeangir, whom he loved more 
than all the others. He took pleasure in his con- 
versation, carried him in his company to the 
chase, and even disclosed to him his most secret 
thoughts. 

One day while they hunted together in a wood, 
the Vizier seeing two ravens croaking on a tree, 
said to his secretary; — ^ 


THE LANGUAGE OF BERDS 251 


“I wish I knew what these birds are talking of 
in their language.” 

“Signior,” answered the Cashmerian, “your 
wish may be accomplished.” 

“How can that be.^” replied Atalmuc. 

“A cabalistic dervish,” said Zeangir, “taught 
me the language of birds. If you please I will 
listen to these and repeat to you verbatim every- 
thing that I shall hear.” 

The Vizier consented, and the Cashmerian 
approaching the ravens seemed to lend an atten- 
tive ear to their discourse, after which returning 
to his master, “Signior,” he said, “would you 
believe it? We are the subject of their conversa- 
tion.” 

“Impossible!” cried the Persian minister, 
“what can they say of us?” 

“One of them,” replied the secretary, “said, 
‘Behold the Grand Vizier Atalmuc in person, that 
tutelary eagle who covers Persia like a nest with 
his wings and incessantly watches for its preser- 
vation. As a relaxation from his painful toils he 
hunts in this wood with his faithful Zeangir. 
How happy is that secretary in serving a master 
that has so much affection for him!’ ‘Softly!’ 
said the other raven, ‘softly! don’t too much 
extol the happiness of that Cashmerian. Atalmuc, 
it is true, converses familiarly with him, honours 
him with his confidence, and, I don’t doubt, in- 


252 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


tends to give him a considerable post; but before 
that happens Zeangir will die of hunger. That 
poor devil lodges in a small paltry room, where 
he is in want of the common necessaries of life. In 
a word, he lives in a miserable manner, though 
nobody at court perceives it. The Grand Vizier 
never thinks of inquiring into his circumstances; 
but, content with entertaining favourable senti- 
ments in his behalf, leaves him in the meantime a 
prey to poverty.’ ” 

When the Grand Vizier Atalmuc heard this tale 
he laughed heartily, and, on returning to his pal- 
ace, loaded Zeangir with wealth and favours. 

Alain RenI: Le Sage, Gil Bias. 

THE ACTOR AND THE PIG 

A FABLE OF PH.EDRUS 

The inhabitants of a certain city being assem- 
bled in public to see pantomimes, there was 
among the performers a favourite actor whom 
they applauded every moment. This buffoon, 
having a mind to close the scene with a new kind 
of representation, appeared alone upon the stage, 
stooped down covering his head with his cloak, 
and, squeaking like a pig, acquitted himself so 
well that the audience actually imagined he had 
one under his clothes. They ordered him there- 
fore to strip, which he having done and nothing 


THE ACTOR AND THE PIG 253 

appearing, the whole assembly thundered ap- 
plause. 

A peasant who happened to be one of the 
spectators, shocked at these expressions of ad- 
miration, cried : — 

“Gentlemen, you have no cause to be charmed 
with that buffoon, who is not such an exquisite 
actor as you imagine. I can play the pig better 
than he, and, if you doubt it, come hither again 
to-morrow at this hour.” 

The people, prepossessed in favour of their 
pantomimes, reassembled next day in greater 
numbers, rather to hiss the peasant than see what 
he could do. 

The two rivals appearing on the stage, the 
buffoon began and was applauded more than ever. 
Then the countryman, stooping in his turn and 
muffling his head in his cloak, pinched the ear of a 
real pig which he held under his arm, and made it 
squeak most piercingly. Nevertheless the audi- 
ence gave the preference to the pantomime and 
hooted the peasant, who all of a sudden producing 
the pig to the spectators, 

“Gentlemen,” said he, “it is not me whom you 
hiss, but this poor pig himself! Such excellent 
judges you are!” 


Alain Ren^: Le Sage, Gil Bias. 


254 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


THE POPE’S MULE 

There was a time long ago when the people of 
the town of Avignon, in France, were happier 
and gayer than they have ever been since. This 
was when the Popes lived there. The streets were 
filled with flowers, flags were flying, and there was 
always the sound of music. The people danced 
on the bridge from morning to night. For when 
the people of Avignon are happy they must dance. 
The Popes of Avignon governed their people well 
and that is why they were so regretted. 

The most loved of all the Popes was the good 
old man, Boniface. He would bless the poor 
and the rich alike, so politely. He would laugh 
heartily from the back of his mule, as he rode 
along with a flower in his baretta. 

What the Pope loved most of all was his vine- 
yard, and every Sunday after vespers he would 
ride out there with his whole chapter, and sip his 
cup of wine, and look fondly on his vineyard. 

Next to his vineyard he loved most of all his 
mule. Every evening he went to the stable to see 
that his pet was well cared for. He never rose 
from the table without having prepared a bowl of 
spiced wine for the mule, which he carried to the 
stable himself. 

The mule was a fine one and worthy of all this 


THE POPE’S MULE 


255 


trouble. He had a beautiful shiny black coat with 
red spots. He was as gentle as an angel, and when 
he passed through the streets people showed him 
all sorts of politeness. Everyone knew that this 
was the best way to stand well at court, for the 
mule had made more than one man’s fortune. 

Tistet Vedene, for example, had risen in the 
world through his adventure with the mule. 
Tistet was a bold-faced little imp who loafed 
about in the neighbourhood of the Papal Palace. 
One day when the Pope was riding alone on the 
ramparts Tistet accosted him, joining his hands 
with an air of admiration, “Ah, great Saint Peter, 
what a fine mule you have there! Let me look 
at him a little. . . . Ah! my Pope, the beautiful 
mule! . . . The Emperor of Germany has n’t one 
like it!” 

And he caressed it and spoke to it tenderly, as 
to a young girl. “Come here, my jewel, my 
treasure, my fine pearl.” 

The Pope was touched, and said to himself, 
“What a good little fellow! How kind he is to my 
mule!” 

The next morning Tistet was entered in the 
Pope’s choir-school among the sons of nobles. He 
wore fine clothes and buckled shoes. The little 
rascal was insolent to everyone and showed kind- 
ness only to the mule. People were always meet- 
ing Tistet in the court-yard with a handful of 


256 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


wild-oats or a bunch of “holy-hay” whose pink 
clusters he would shake playfully. He would 
look up at the Pope’s balcony, as much as to say, 
“He, he! for whom is this?” 

In time, when the Pope felt himself growing 
old, he allowed Tistet to take charge of the 
stable, and to carry the mule his bowl of spiced 
wine. This did not please the Cardinals, and it 
pleased the mule less. For when, the time came 
for his wine five or six little clerks from the choir- 
school would arrive. They would creep into the 
straw, fine clothes and all. Then a moment later 
a good warm odour of caramel and spices would 
fill the stable, and Tistet would appear carrying 
the bowl of wine, — the perfumed wine that the 
mule loved so much! This they had the cruelty 
to bring to his manger, and make the poor mule 
sniff it, and then when his nostrils were filled, 
presto, the beautiful rose liquor would go down 
the throats of these little scamps. 

If they had done nothing worse than steal his 
wine! But they were like little fiends when they 
had drunk! One would pull his ears, another his 
tail, and a third would elimb upon his back. And 
not one of these young rascals dreamed that with 
a single kick the honest brute could have sent 
them all to the polar star, or even farther. But 
no, one cannot be the Pope’s mule for nothing! 
No matter what the children might do the good 


THE POPE’S MULE 


257 


mule would not get angry. It was only against 
Tistet that he had a grudge. When he felt Tistet 
behind him his shoe fairly itched, for Tistet 
played such mean tricks upon him. 

One day Tistet made the mule go up with him 
into the bell-tower of the choir-school, away up 
into the highest point of the palace! The whole 
city saw the mule up there. You can imagine the 
terror of this unhappy creature when, after turn- 
ing blindly in a circular staircase for an hour, and 
climbing I do not know how many steps, he 
found himself suddenly upon a platform dazzling 
with light. 

He saw, a thousand feet below him, a fantastic 
city, with the sheds in the market-place smaller 
than nutshells, and the Pope’s soldiers before 
their barracks looking like red ants. And away 
across a thread of silver stretched a tiny bridge 
where the people danced and danced. Ah, poor 
brute! what a panic seized him! Every window 
in the palace shook with the cry which he gave. 

“What is it.? What are they doing to him.?” 
cried the good Pope, rushing out upon his 
balcony. 

Tistet was already in the court-yard, pretend- 
ing to weep, and tearing his hair. “Ah, great 
Saint Peter, it ’s your mule ! Good heavens ! What 
is going to become of us? Your mule has climbed 
up into the bell- tower.” 


258 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“All alone???” 

“Yes, great Saint Peter, all alone. See! — 
Look up there, way up. Do you see the end of 
his ears showing? One might say two swallows — ” 

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed the poor Pope, 
raising his eyes. “He has indeed gone mad! He 
will kill himself! — Come down, wretched crea- 
ture!” 

The mule would have liked nothing better than 
to come down, but how? The staircase was not 
to be thought of. Those things could be mounted, 
but to go down would be enough to break his legs 
a hundred times. The poor mule was in despair; 
and as he wandered about the platform, his great 
eyes rolling with dizziness, he thought of Tistet. 
“Ah, villain, if I escape from this, what a kick I 
will give you to-morrow morning!” 

The idea of this kick gave the mule courage. 
For without it he could not have contained him- 
self. 

Finally they succeeded in getting him down, 
but it was a serious matter. It was necessary to 
lower him with a derrick and ropes. You can 
imagine how humiliating it was for the Pope’s 
mule to find himself dangling from that height 
with his feet paddling in the air, like a cockchafer 
at the end of a string; — and all Avignon watch- 
ing him ! 

All night the mule fancied himself wander- 


THE POPE’S MULE 


259 


ing about that confounded platform. Then he 
thought of Tistet and of the fine kick he was 
going to give him in the morning. Ah, my friends, 
what a kick! They should see the smoke of it 
for miles. 

But while this beautiful reception was being 
prepared for him in the stable, do you know what 
Tistet was doing? He was singing as he floated 
down the Rh6ne in the Pope’s galley. He was on 
his way to Naples with a troop of young nobles 
who were sent by the city every year to the court 
of Queen Jeanne to learn diplomacy and good 
manners. Tistet was not noble, but the Pope 
wished to reward him for the care he had taken of 
the mule, and especially for the activity he had 
shown upon the day of the rescue. 

How disappointed the mule was the next day! 
“Ah, the villain! he suspected something!” 
thought the mule as he shook his bells with rage. 
“But it’s all the same! You will find your kick 
waiting for you on your return, you young 
rascal! I will keep it for you.” 

And he did keep it. Seven years passed away 
and at last Tistet returned. He had not finished 
his time at the court of Naples, but rumour said 
that the first mustard-bearer to the Pope had died, 
and Tistet wished to compete for the position. 

When he entered the hall of the palace, the 
Pope had difficulty in recognizing him, he had 


^60 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


grown so mucli. It is necessary to say also that 
the good Pope had become old, and that he could 
not see without his spectacles. — But Tistet was 
not abashed. 

“What! great Saint Peter, you do not remem- 
ber me.^ It is I, Tistet Vedene.” 

“Vedene?” 

“Yes indeed, you know very well. He who 
used to carry the wine to your mule.” 

“Ah, yes, yes; I remember. A good little boy, 
that Tistet Vedene! And now, what does he want 
from us.^ ” 

“Oh! just a little thing, great Saint Peter. I 
came to ask you — By the way, have you still 
your mule? Is he well? — So much the better! 
— I came to ask you for the place of your first 
mustard-bearer who has just died.” 

“First mustard-bearer, thou! But thou art too 
young. How old art thou?” 

“Twenty years and two months, illustrious 
Pontiff, — just five years older than your mule. 
Ah, what a fine creature he was ! If you knew how 
I loved that mule! How I pined for him in Italy! 
Will you not allow me to see him? ” 

“Yes, my child, thou shalt see him,” said the 
good Pope, quite touched. “And since thou 
lovest him so much, the fine creature, I do not 
wish thee to live far from him. From this day 
I attach thee to my person as first mustard- 


THE POPE’S MULE 


261 


bearer. Come to us to-morrow after vespers. We 
will bestow upon thee the insignia of thy grade, 
in the presence of our chapter. And then I will 
take thee to see the mule, and thou shalt go to the 
vineyard with us two. Ha! ha!” 

I need not tell you with what impatience 
Tistet waited for the morrow’s ceremony. — But 
the mule waited with even greater impatience 
than he. 

The next day when vespers were over Tistet 
made his entrance into the court-yard of the 
palace. All the higher clergy were there, — the 
cardinals in their red robes, the abbots with their 
little mitres, the choir boys and the Pope’s 
soldiers in gala uniform, the lower clergy, and the 
little clerk who goes behind bearing the bell, — 
everybody down to those who light the candles, 
— not one was missing. 

When Tistet appeared his handsome looks and 
fine bearing aroused a murmur of admiration. 
He was a beautiful blond with curly hair, and he 
had replaced his Neapolitan dress with a jacket 
with rose-coloured embroidery, and on his cap 
trembled a long ibis feather. As soon as this 
beautiful Tistet, the first mustard-bearer, entered, 
he bowed courteously, and went toward the high 
flight of steps where the Pope was waiting to 
confer upon him the insignia of his rank, the 
spoon of yellow boxwood and the saffron robe. 


262 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


The mule was at the foot of the steps, fully 
harnessed and ready to set out for the vineyard. 
Tistet passed near him, and, smiling kindly, 
stopped to give him two or three friendly little 
taps upon his back; but at the same time he 
looked out of the corner of his eye to see whether 
the Pope noticed it. The position was a good one. 
The mule collected all his strength. 

“There! take that, scoundrel! I have been 
saving it for you seven years!” 

And he gave so terrible a kick that the smoke 
of it was seen miles away, — a whirlwind of blond 
dust, in which fluttered an ibis feather. This 
was all that remained of the unfortunate Tistet 
Vedene. 

The kick of a mule is not ordinarily so annihilat- 
ing, but then this was a Pope’s mule. And just 
think, he had been saving it up for seven years! 

Alphonse Daudet. 


YE MARVELLOUS LEGEND OF 
TOM CONNOR’S CAT 

There was a man in these parts, sir, you must 
know, called Tom Connor, and he had a cat 
that was equal to any dozen of rat-traps, and he 
was proud of the baste, and with rayson, for she 
was worth her weight in goold to him in saving 
his sacks of meal from the thievery of the rats 


TOM CONNOR’S CAT 263 

and mice; for Tom was an extensive dealer in 
corn. 

This cat, sir, was a great pet, and was so up to 
everything, that Tom swore she was a’most like 
a Christian, only she could n’t speak, and had 
so sensible a look in her eye, that he was sartin 
sure the cat knew every word that was said to 
her. Well, she used to sit by him at breakfast 
every morning, and the eloquent cock of her 
tail, as she used to rub against his leg, said, “Give 
me some milk, Tom Connor,” as plain as print, 
and the plenitude of her purr afterwards spoke 
a gratitude beyond language. 

Well, one morning, Tom was going to the 
neighbouring town to market, and he had prom- 
ised the wife to bring home shoes to the childre 
out o’ the price of the com; and sure enough be- 
fore he sat down to breakfast, there was Tom 
taking the measure of the childre’s feet by 
cutting notches on a bit of stick; and the wife 
gave him so many cautions about getting a “nate 
fit” for “Billy’s purty feet,” that Tom in his 
anxiety to nick the closest possible measme, cut 
off the child’s toe. 

That disturbed the harmony of the party, and 
Tom was obliged to breakfast alone, while the 
mother was endeavouring to cure Billy; in short 
trying to make a heal of his toe. 

Well, sir, all the time Tom was taking measure 


264 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


for the shoes, the cat was observing him with that 
luminous peculiarity of eye for which her tribe is 
remarkable; and when Tom sat down to break- 
fast, the cat rubbed up against him more vigor- 
ously than usual. But Tom, thinking of his child’s 
toe, kept never minding her, until the cat, with a 
sort of caterwauling growl, gave Tom a dab of 
her claws, that went clean through his leathers 
and a little further. 

“Wow!” says Tom, with a jump, clapping 
his hand on the part, and rubbing it; “by this 
and that, you drew the blood out o’ me,” says 
Tom, “you wicked divil, — tish! go long!” says 
he, making a kick at her. 

With that the cat gave a reproachful look at 
him, and her eyes glared just like a pair of mail- 
coach lamps in a fog. With that, sir, the cat with 
a mysterious “miaow!” fixed a most penetrating 
glance on Tom, and distinctly uttered his name. 

Tom felt every hair on his head as stiff as a 
pump-handle; and, scarcely crediting his ears, he 
returned a searching look at the cat, who very 
quietly proceeded in a sort of nasal twang: — 

“Tom Connor,” says she. 

“Mercy on me!” says Tom, “ if it is n’t spakin’ 
she is!” 

“Tom Connor,” says she again. 

“Yes, ma’am,” says Tom. 

“Come here,” says she, “whisper, — I want to 


TOM CONNOR’S CAT 


265 


talk to you, Tom,” says she, “the laste taste in 
private,” says she, — rising on her hams, and 
beckoning him with her paw out o’ the door, with 
a wink and a toss o’ the head aiqual to a milliner. 

Well, as you may suppose, Tom did n’t know 
whether he was on his head or his heels, but he 
followed the cat, and off she went and squatted 
herself under the edge of a little paddock at the 
back of Tom’s house. And as he came round the 
corner she held up her paw again, and laid it on 
her mouth, as much as to say, “Be cautious, Tom ! ” 
Well, nary a word Tom could say at all, with the 
fright, so up he goes to the cat, and says she: — 

“Tom,” says she, “I have a great respect for 
you, and there’s something I must tell you, be- 
case you’re losing character with your neigh- 
bours,” says she, “by your goin’s on,” says she, 
“and it’s out o’ the respect I’ve for you that I 
must tell you,” says she. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” says Tom. 

“You’re goin’ off to the town,” says she, “to 
buy shoes for the childre,” says she, “and never 
thought o’ gettin’ me a pair.” 

“You!” says Tom. 

“Yis, me, Tom Connor,” says she, “and the 
neighbours wondhers that a respectable man like 
you allows your cat to go about the counthry 
barefutted,” says she. 

“Is it a cat to ware shoes?'' says Tom. 


266 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Why not?” says she. “Does n’t horses ware 
shoes? — and I have a prettier foot than a 
horse, I hope,” says she with a toss of her head. 

“Faix! she spakes like a woman, so proud of 
her feet,” says Tom to himself, astonished as you 
may suppose, but pretending never to think it 
remarkable all the time; and so he went on dis- 
coursin’ and says he, “It’s thrue for you, ma’am,” 
says he, “that horses wares shoes, — but that 
stands to rayson, ma’am, you see, — seeing the 
hardship their feet has to go through on the hard 
roads.” 

“And how do you know what hardship my feet 
has to go through?” says the cat mighty sharp. 

“But, ma’am,” says Tom, “I don’t well see how 
we could fasten a shoe on you,” says he. 

“Lave that to me,” says the cat. 

“Did any one ever stick walnut shells on you, 
pussy?” says Tom with a grin. 

“Don’t be disrespectful, Tom Connor,” says 
the cat with a frown. 

“I ax your pard’n, ma’am,” says he, “but as for 
the horses, you wor spakin’ about wearin’ shoes, 
you know their shoes is fastened on with nails, 
and how would your shoes be fastened on?” 

“Ah! you stupid thief!” says she, “have n’t I 
illigant nails o’ my own?” and with that she gave 
him a dab of her claw that made him roar. 

“Ow! murdther!” says he. 


TOM CONNOR’S CAT 


267 


“Now no more of your palaver, Misther 
Connor,” says the cat, “just be off and get me 
the shoes.” 

“Tare an’ ouns!” says Tom, “what’ll become 
o’ me if I’m to get shoes for my cats?” says he, 
“for you increase your family four times a year, 
and you have six or seven every time,” says he, 
“and then you must all have two pairs a piece, — 
wirra! wirra! I’ll be ruined in shoe-leather,” says 
Tom. 

“No more o’ your stuff,” says the cat. “Don’t 
be standin’ here undher the hedge talkin’, or we’ll 
lose our karacthers, — for I ’ve remarked your 
wife is jealous, Tom.” 

“’Pon my sowl, that’s thrue!” says Tom with 
a smirk. 

“More fool she,” says the cat, “for ’pon my 
conscience, Tom, you’re as ugly as if you wor 
bespoke.” 

Off ran the cat with these words, leaving Tom 
in amazement. He said nothing to the family for 
fear of fright’ning them, and off he went to the 
town, straight to Squire Botherum’s, the magis- 
thrit, to sware examinations agen the cat. 

And when Tom was asked to relate the events 
of the morning which brought him before Squire 
Botherum, his brain was so bewildered between 
his corn and his cat, and his child’s toe, that he 
made a very confused account of it. 


268 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Begin your story from the beginning,” says 
the magisthrit, to Tom. 

“Well, your honour,” says Tom, “I was goin’ 
to market this mornin’ to sell the child’s corn, — 
I beg your pard’n, — my own toes, I mane, sir.” 

“Sell your toes!” says the Squire. 

“No, sir, takin’ the cat to market, I mane, — ” 

“Take a cat to market,” says the Squire. 
“You’re drunk, man.” 

“No, your honour, only confused a little, for 
when the toes began to spake to me, — the cat, I 
mane, — I was bothered clane, — ” 

“The cat speak to you,” says the Squire. 
“Phew! worse than before, — you ’re drunk, Tom.” 

“No, your honour, it’s on the strength of the 
cat I come to spake to you.” 

“I think it’s on the strength of a pint of 
whiskey, Tom.” 

“By the vartue o’ my oath, your honour, it’s 
nothin’ but the cat.” And so Tom then told him 
all about the affair, and the Squire was regularly 
astonished, and he pulled down all the law-books 
from his library, and found that they had made 
laws against everything in Ireland except a cat, 

“Bother the laws!” says the Squire. “We’ll 
make her subject to the game laws. We’ll hunt 
her,” says he. 

“Ow! — illigant! — ” says Tom, — “We ’ll have 
a brave run out of her.” 


TOM CONNOR’S CAT 


269 


“Meet me at the cross-roads,” says the Squire, 
“in the morning, and I ’ll have the hounds ready.” 

Well, off Tom went home, and he was racking 
his brains what excuse he could make to the cat 
for not bringing the shoes, and just then he saw 
her cantering up to him, half a mile before he got 
home. 

“Where’s the shoes, Tom?” says she. 

“I have not got them to-day, ma’am,” says he. 

“ Is that the way you keep your promise, Tom?” 
says she. “I’ll tell you what it is, Tom, I’ll tare 
the eyes out o’ the childre, if you don’t get me 
shoes.” 

“Whisht! whisht!” says Tom, frightened out 
of his life for his childre’s eyes. “Don’t be in a 
passion, pussy. I’ll take you to see the Squire,” 
says he, “and you can ask him for the shoes,” 
says he. 

“And when am I to go?” says the cat, looking 
savage. 

“To-morrow,” says Tom. 

“It’s well you said that, Tom,” says the cat, 
“or the devil an eye I’d leave in your family this 
night,” and off she hopped. Tom thrimbled at 
the wicked look she gave. 

“Remember,” says she over the hedge with a 
bitter caterwaul. 

“Never fear,” says Tom. 

Well sure enough, the next mornin’ there was 


270 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


the cat at cock-crow, licking herself as nate as a 
new pin, to go into the town, and out came Tom 
with a bag undher his arm, and the cat after him. 

“Now git into this, and I’ll carry you into the 
town,” says Tom. 

“Sure I can walk with you,” says the cat. 

“Oh, that wouldn’t do,” says Tom. “The 
people in the town is curious and slandherous 
people, and sure it would rise ugly remarks if I 
was seen with a cat afther me; — a dog is a man’s 
companion by nature, but cats does not stand to 
rayson.” 

Well the cat, seeing there was no use in argu- 
ment, got into the bag, and off Tom set to the 
cross roads with the bag over his shoulder, and he 
came up to the corner where the Squire, and his 
huntsman, and the hounds, and a pack o’ people 
were waitin’. 

“What’s that in your hag?'' says the Squire. 
“You must let me see it,” says he. 

And with that he laid hold of the bag, and shook 
the cat out, sure enough, and off she went with 
her tail as big as a sweeping brush, and the 
Squire with a thundering halloo after her, clapt 
the dogs at her heels, and away they went for the 
bare life. 

Never was there seen such running as that day, 
— the cat made for a shaking bog, the loneliest 
place in the whole country, and there the riders 


TOM CONNOR’S CAT 


271 


were all thrown out, barrin’ the huntsman, who 
had a web-footed horse on purpose for soft 
places, and just as the cat got on the border of the 
bog, they saw her give a twist as the foremost dog 
closed with her, for he gave her a nip in the flank. 

Still she went on, however, and headed them 
well, towards an old mud cabin in the middle of 
the bog, and there they saw her jump in at the 
window, and up came the dogs the next minit, 
and gathered round the house with the most 
horrid howling ever was heard. The huntsman 
alighted, and went into the house to turn the cat 
out again, when what should he see but an old 
hag lying in bed in the corner. 

“Did you see a cat come in here?” says he. 

“Oh, no-o-o-o!” squealed the old hag, in a 
trembling voice. “There’s no cat here,” says she. 

“Yelp! yelp! yelp!” went the dogs outside. 

“Oh! keep the dogs out o’ this!” says the old 
hag, — “Oh-o-o-o!” And the huntsman saw her 
eyes glare under the blanket, just like a cat’s. 

“Hillo!” says the huntsman, pulling down the 
blanket, — and what should he see but the old 
hag’s flank all in a gore of blood. 

“Ow! ow! you ould divil! — is it you? you ould 
cat!” says he opening the door. 

In rushed the dogs, — up jumped the old hag, 
and changing into a cat before their eyes, out she 
darted through the window again, and made 


272 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


another run for it; but she could n’t escape, and 
the dogs gobbled her while you could say “Jack 
Robinson.” 

But the most remarkable part of this extra- 
ordinary story is that the pack was ruined from 
that day out; for after having eaten the en- 
chanted cat the devil a thing would they ever 
hunt afterwards but mice. 

Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 


A DISSERTATION UPON ROAST PIG 

Mankind, says a Chinese manuscript, which 
my friend M. was obliging enough to read and 
explain to me, for the first seventy thousand ages 
ate their meat raw, clawing or biting it from the 
living animal, just as they do in Abyssinia to this 
day. This period is not obscurely hinted at by 
their great Confucius in the second chapter of his 
Mundane Mutations, where he designates a kind 
of golden age by the term of Cho-fang, literally 
the Cooks’ Holiday. The manuscript goes on to 
say, that the art of roasting, or rather broiling 
(which I take to be the elder brother) was 
accidentally discovered in the manner following. 

The swineherd, Ho-ti, having gone out into 
the woods one morning, as his manner was, to 
collect mast for his hogs, left his cottage in the 
care of his eldest son. Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy. 


DISSERTATION ON ROAST PIG 273 

who being fond of playing with fire, as younkers 
of his age commonly are, let some sparks escape 
into a bundle of straw, which kindling quickly, 
spread the conflagration over every part of their 
poor mansion, till it was reduced to ashes. 

Together with the cottage (a sorry antedilu- 
vian makeshift of a building, you may think it), 
what was of much more importance, a fine litter 
of new-farrowed pigs, no less than nine in num- 
ber, perished. China pigs have been esteemed 
a luxury all over the East, from the remotest 
periods that we read of. 

Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you 
may think, not so much for the sake of the tene- 
ment, which his father and he could easily build 
up again with a few dry branches, and the labour 
of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss of 
the pigs. 

While he was thinking what he should say to 
his father, and wringing his hands over the smok- 
ing remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, 
an odour assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent 
which he had before experienced. What could it 
proceed from? — not from the burnt cottage, — 
he had smelt that smell before, — indeed this was 
by no means the first accident of the kind which 
had occurred through the negligence of this un- 
lucky young firebrand. Much less did it resemble 
that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A pre- 


274 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


monitory moistening at the same time over- 
flowed his nether lip. He knew not what to think. 

He next stooped down to feel the pig, if there 
were any signs of life in it. He burnt his fingers, 
and to cool them he applied them in his booby 
fashion to his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the 
scorched skin had come away with his fingers, 
and for the first time in his life (in the world’s life 
indeed, for before him no man had known it) he 
tasted — crackling ! Again he felt and fumbled 
at the pig. It did not burn him so much now, still 
he licked his fingers from a sort of habit. 

The truth at length broke into his slow under- 
standing, that it was the pig that smelt so, and 
the pig that tasted so delicious; and surrendering 
himself up to the new-born pleasure, he fell to 
tearing up whole handfuls of the scorched skin 
with the flesh next it, and was cramming it down 
his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire 
entered amid the smoking rafters, armed with 
retributory cudgel, and finding how affairs stood, 
began to rain blows upon the young rogue’s 
shoulders, as thick as hail-stones, which Bo-bo 
heeded not any more than if they had been flies. 

The tickling pleasure, which he experienced in 
his lower regions, had rendered him quite callous 
to any inconveniences he might feel in those re- 
mote quarters. His father might lay on, but he 
could not beat him from his pig, till he had fairly 


DISSERTATION ON ROAST PIG 275 


made an end of it, when, becoming a little more 
sensible of his situation, something like the fol- 
lowing dialogue ensued. 

“You graceless whelp, what have you got there 
devouring.^ Is it not enough that you have burnt 
me down three houses with your dog’s tricks, and 
be hanged to you! but you must be eating fire, 
and I know not what; — what have you got there 
I say.?” 

“O father, the pig, the pig! do come and taste 
how nice the burnt pig eats.” 

The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He 
cursed his son, and he cursed himself that ever he 
should beget a son that should eat burnt pig. 

Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened 
since morning, soon raked out another pig, and 
fairly rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by 
main force into the fists of Ho-ti, still shouting 
out: “Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig, father, only 
taste; — O Lord!” — with such-like barbarous 
ejaculations, cramming all the while as if he would 
choke. 

Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped 
the abominable thing, wavering whether he should 
not put his son to death for an unnatural young 
monster, when the crackling scorching his fingers, 
as it had done his son’s, and applying the same 
remedy to them, he in his turn tasted some of its 
flavour, which, make what sour mouths he would 


276 THE JOLLY BOOK 

for a pretence, proved not altogether displeasing 
to him. 

In conclusion (for the manuscript here is a little 
tedious) both father and son fairly sat down to the 
mess, and never left off till they had despatched 
all that remained of the litter. 

Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret 
escape, for the neighbours would certainly have 
stoned them for a couple of abominable wretches, 
who could think of improving upon the good meat 
which God had sent them. Nevertheless, strange 
stories got about. It was observed that Ho-ti’s 
cottage was burnt down now more frequently 
than ever. Nothing but fires from this time for- 
ward. Some would break out in broad day, others 
in the night-time. As often as the sow farrowed, 
so sure was the house of Ho-ti to be in a blaze; 
and Ho-ti himself, which was the more remark- 
able, instead of chastising his son, seemed to grow 
more indulgent to him than ever. At length they 
were watched, the terrible mystery discovered, 
and father and son summoned to take their trial 
at Pekin, then an inconsiderable assize town. 

Evidence was given, the obnoxious food itself 
produced in court, and verdict about to be pro- 
nounced, when the foreman of the jury begged 
that some of the burnt pig, of which the culprits 
stood accused, might be handed into the box. 
He handled it, and they all handled it; and burn- 


DISSJERTATION ON ROAST PIG £77 

ing their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done 
before them, and nature prompting to each of 
them the same remedy, against the face of all 
the facts, and the clearest charge which Judge 
had ever given, — to the surprise of the whole 
court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and all 
present, — without leaving the box, or any 
manner of consultation whatever, they brought 
in a simultaneous verdict of Not Guilty. 

The Judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked 
at the manifest iniquity of the decision; and when 
the court was dismissed, went privily, and bought 
up all the pigs that could be had for love or money. 
In a few days his Lordship’s town-house was 
observed to be on fire. 

The thing took wing, and now there was noth- 
ing to be seen but fire in every direction. Fuel 
and pigs grew enormously dear all over the dis- 
trict. The insurance offices one and all shut up 
shop. People built slighter and slighter every 
day, until it was feared that the very science of 
architecture would in no long time be lost to the 
world. 

Thus this custom of firing houses continued, 
till in process of time, says my manuscript, a sage 
arose, like our Locke, who made a discovery, that 
the flesh of swine, or indeed of any other animal, 
might be cooked {burnt, as they called it) without 
the necessity of consuming a whole house to dress 


278 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


it. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. 
Roasting by the string or spit came in a century 
or two later; I forget in whose dynasty. By such 
slow degrees, concludes the manuscript, do the 
most useful, and seemingly the most obvious arts, 
make their way among mankind. 

Without placing too implicit faith in the 
account above given, it must be agreed, that if a 
worthy pretext for so dangerous an experiment 
as setting houses on fire (especially in these days) 
could be assigned in favour of any culinary ob- 
ject, that pretext and excuse might be found in 
ROAST PIG. 

Chaeles Lamb, Essays of Elia. 

HOW I KILLED A BEAR 

So many conflicting accounts have appeared 
about my casual encounter with an Adirondack 
bear last summer, that in justice to the public, to 
myself, and to the bear, it is necessary to make a 
plain statement of the facts. Besides, it is so 
seldom I have occasion to kill a bear, that the 
celebration of the exploit may be excused. 

The encounter was unpremeditated on both 
sides. I was not hunting for a bear, and I have no 
reason to suppose that a bear was looking for me. 
The fact is, that we were both out blackberry ing, 
and met by chance, — the usual way. 


HOW I KEELED A BEAR 


279 


There is among the Adirondack visitors always 
a great deal of conversation about bears, — a 
general expression of the wish to see one in the 
woods, and much speculation as to how a person 
would act if he or she chanced to meet one. But 
bears are scarce and timid, and appear only to a 
favoured few. 

It was a warm day in August, just the sort of 
day when an adventure of any kind seemed im- 
possible. But it occurred to the housekeepers at 
our cottage — there were four of them — to send 
me to the clearing, on the mountain back of the 
house, to pick blackberries. 

It was rather a series of small clearings, run- 
ning up into the forest, much overgrown with 
bushes and briers, and not unromantic. Cows 
pastured there, penetrating through the leafy 
passages from one opening to another and brows- 
ing among the bushes. I was kindly furnished with 
a six-quart pail, and told not to be gone long. 

Not from any predatory instinct, but to save 
appearances, I took a gun. It adds to the manly 
aspect of a person with a tin pail if he also carries 
a gun. It was possible I might start up a par- 
tridge; though how I was to hit him, if he started 
up instead of standing still, puzzled me. Many 
people use a shotgun for partridges. I prefer the 
rifle; it makes a clean job of death, and does not 
prematurely stuff the bird with globules of lead. 


280 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


The rifle was a Sharp’s, carrying a ball-car- 
tridge (ten to the pound), — an excellent weapon 
belonging to a friend of mine, who had intended, 
for a good many years back, to kill a deer with it. 
He could hit a tree with it — if the wind did not 
blow, and the atmosphere was just right, and the 
tree was not too far off — nearly every time. Of 
course, the tree must have some size. 

Needless to say that I was at that time no 
sportsman. Years ago I killed a robin under the 
most humiliating circumstances. The bird was 
in a low cherry-tree. I loaded a big shot-gun 
pretty full, crept up under the tree, rested the 
gun on the fence, with the muzzle more than ten 
feet from the bird, shut both eyes, and pulled the 
trigger. When I got up to see what had happened, 
the robin was scattered about under the tree in 
more than a thousand pieces, no one of which 
was big enough to enable a naturalist to decide 
from it to what species it belonged. This disgusted 
me with the life of a sportsman. I mention the 
incident to show, that, although I went black- 
berrying armed, there was not much inequality 
between me and the bear. 

In this blackberry-patch bears had been seen. 
The summer before, our coloured cook, accom- 
panied by a little girl of the vicinage, was picking 
berries there one day, when a bear came out of 
the woods, and walked towards them. 


HOW I KH^LED A BEAR 


281 


The girl took to her heels and escaped. Aunt 
Chloe was paralyzed with terror. Instead of at- 
tempting to run, she sat down on the ground 
where she was standing, and began to weep and 
scream, giving herself up for lost. 

The bear was bewildered by this conduct. He 
approached and looked at her; he walked around 
and surveyed her. Probably he had never seen a 
coloured person before, and did not know whether 
she would agree with him; at any rate, after 
watching her a few moments, he turned about, 
and went into the forest. 

This is an authentic instance of the delicate 
consideration of a bear, and is much more remark- 
able than the forbearance towards the African 
slave of the well-known lion, because the bear 
had no thorn in his foot. 

When I had climbed the hill, I set up my rifle 
against a tree, and began picking berries, lured 
on from bush to bush by the black gleam of fruit 
(that always promises more in the distance than 
it realizes when you reach it); penetrating far- 
ther and farther, through leaf-shaded cow-paths 
flecked with sunlight, into clearing after clearing. 
I could hear on all sides the tinkle of bells, the 
cracking of sticks, and the stamping of cattle that 
were taking refuge in the thicket from the flies. 
Occasionally, as I broke through a covert, I 
encountered a meek cow, who stared at me stu- 


282 


THE JOLLY EOOK 


pidly for a second, and then shambled off into the 
brush. I became accustomed to this dumb society, 
and picked on in silence, attributing all the wood- 
noises to the cattle, thinking nothing of any real 
bear. 

In point of fact, however, I was thinking all the 
time of a nice romantic bear, and, as I picked, was 
composing a story about a generous she-bear who 
had lost her cub, and who seized a small girl in 
this very wood, carried her tenderly off to a cave, 
and brought her up on bear’s milk and honey. 

When the girl got big enough to run away, 
moved by her inherited instincts, she escaped, 
and came into the valley to her father’s house 
(this part of the story was to be worked out, so 
that the child would know her father by some 
family resemblance, and have some language in 
which to address him), and told him where the 
bear lived. 

The father took his gun, and, guided by the 
unfeeling daughter, went into the woods and shot 
the bear, who never made any resistance, and 
only, when dying, turned reproachful eyes upon 
her murderer. The moral of the tale was to be 
kindness to animals. 

I was in the midst of this tale, when I happened 
to look some rods away to the other edge of the 
clearing, and there was a bear! He was standing 
on his hind-legs, and doing just what I was doing, 


HOW I KH^LED A BEAR 


283 


— picking blackberries. With one paw he bent 
down the bush, while with the other he clawed 
the berries into his mouth, — green ones and all. 

To say that I was astonished is inside the mark. 
I suddenly discovered that I did n’t want to see a 
bear, after all. At about the same moment the 
bear saw me, stopped eating berries, and re- 
garded me with a glad surprise. It is all very well 
to imagine what you would do under such circum- 
stances. Probably you would n’t do it; I did n’t. 

The bear dropped down on his fore-feet, and 
came slowly towards me. Climbing a tree was of 
no use, with so good a climber in the rear. If I 
started to run, I had no doubt the bear would give 
chase; and although a bear cannot run down hill 
as fast as he can run up hill, yet I felt that he 
could get over this rough, brush-tangled ground 
faster than I could. 

The bear was approaching. It suddenly 
occurred to me how I could divert his mind until 
I could fall back upon my military base. My pail 
was nearly full of excellent berries, — much 
better than the bear could pick himself. I put the 
pail on the ground, and slowly backed away from 
it, keeping my eye, as beast-tamers do, on the 
bear. The ruse succeeded. 

The bear came up to the berries, and stopped. 
Not accustomed to eat out of a pail, he tipped it 
over, and nosed about in the fruit, ‘‘gorming” 


284 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


(if there is such a word) it down, mixed with 
leaves and dirt, like a pig. 

The bear is a worse feeder than the pig. When- 
ever he disturbs a maple-sugar camp in the 
spring, he always upsets the buckets of syrup, and 
tramples round in the sticky sweets, wasting more 
than he eats. The bear’s manners are thoroughly 
disagreeable. 

As soon as my enemy’s head was down, I 
started and ran. Somewhat out of breath, and 
shaky, I reached my faithful rifle. It was not a 
moment too soon. I heard the bear crashing 
through the brush after me. Enraged at my du- 
plicity, he was now coming on with blood in his eye. 
I felt that the time of one of us was probably short. 

The rapidity of thought at such moments of 
peril is well known. I thought an octavo volume, 
had it illustrated and published, sold fifty thou- 
sand copies, and went to Europe on the proceeds, 
while that bear was loping across the clearing. 

As I was cocking the gun, I made a hasty and 
unsatisfactory review of my whole life. I noted, 
that, even in such a compulsory review, it is 
almost impossible to think of any good thing you 
have done. The sins come out uncommonly strong. 
I recollected a newspaper subscription I had de- 
layed paying years and years ago, until both 
editor and newspaper were dead, and which now 
never could be paid to all eternity. 


HOW I KILLED A BEAR 285 

The bear was coming on. 

I tried to remember what I had read about en- 
counters with bears. I could n’t recall an instance 
in which a man had run away from a bear in the 
woods and escaped, although I recalled plenty 
where the bear had run from the man and got off. 
I tried to think what is the best way to kill a bear 
with a gun, when you are not near enough to 
club him with the stock. 

My first thought was to fire at his head; to 
plant the ball between his eyes; but this is a 
dangerous experiment. The bear’s brain is very 
small; and, unless you hit that, the bear does not 
mind a bullet in his head; that is, not at the time. 

I remembered that the instant death of the 
bear would follow a bullet planted just back of 
his fore-leg, and sent into his heart. This spot is 
also difficult to reach, unless the bear stands off, 
side towards you, like a target. I finally deter- 
mined to fire at him generally. 

The bear was coming on. 

I tried to fix my last thoughts upon my family. 
As my family is small, this was not difficult. 
Dread of displeasing my wife, or hurting her 
feelings, was uppermost in my mind. What would 
be her anxiety as hour after hour passed on, and 
I did not return! What would the rest of the 
household think as the afternoon passed, and 
no blackberries came! What would be my wife’s 


286 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


mortification when the news was brought that 
her husband had been eaten by a bear! I cannot 
imagine anything more ignominious than to have 
a husband eaten by a bear. 

The bear was coming on; he had, in fact, come 
on. I judged that he could see the whites of my 
eyes. All my subsequent reflections were con- 
fused. I raised the gun, covered the bear’s breast 
with the sight, and let drive. 

Then I turned, and ran like a deer. I did not 
hear the bear pursuing. I looked back. The bear 
had stopped. He was lying down. I then remem- 
bered that the best thing to do after having fired 
your gun is to reload it. I slipped in a charge, 
keeping my eyes on the bear. He never stirred. 

I walked back suspiciously. There was a quiver 
in the hind-legs, but no other motion. Still he 
might be shamming; bears often sham. To make 
sure, I approached, and put a ball into his head. 
He did n’t mind it now; he minded nothing. 
Death had come to him with a merciful sudden- 
ness. He was calm in death. In order that he 
might remain so, I blew his brains out, and then 
started for home. I had killed a bear I 
Notwithstanding my excitement, I managed 
to saunter into the house with an unconcerned 
air. There was a chorus of voices : — 

“Where are your blackberries?” 

“WTiy were you gone so long?” 


HOW I KD^LED A BEAR £87 

“Where’s your pail? ” 

“I left the pail.” 

“Left the pail? WTiatfor?” 

“A bear wanted it.” 

“Oh, nonsense!” 

“Well, the last I saw of it, a bear had it.” 

“Oh, come! You did n’t really see a bear?” 

“Yes, but I did really see a real bear.” 

“Did he run?” 

“Yes; he ran after me.” 

“I don’t believe a word of it. What did you 
do?” 

“Oh! nothing particular — except kill the 
bear.” 

Cries of “Gammon!” “Don’t believe it!” 
“Where’s the bear?” 

“If you want to see the bear, you must go 
up into the woods. I could n’t bring him down 
alone.” 

Having satisfied the household that something 
extraordinary had occurred, and excited the 
posthumous fear of some of them for my own 
safety, I went down into the valley to get help. 
The great bear-hunter, who keeps one of the 
summer boarding-houses, received my story with 
a smile of incredulity; and the incredulity spread 
to the other inhabitants and to the boarders as 
soon as the story was known. 

However, as I insisted in all soberness, and 


288 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


offered to lead them to the bear, a party of forty 
or fifty people at last started off with me to bring 
the bear in. Nobody believed there was any bear 
in the case; but everybody who could get a gun 
carried one; and we went into the woods armed 
with guns, pistols, pitchforks, and sticks, against 
all contingencies or surprises, — a crowd made up 
mostly of scoffers and jeerers. 

But when I led the way to the fatal spot, and 
pointed out the bear, lying peacefully wrapped in 
his own skin, something like terror seized the 
boarders, and genuine excitement the natives. It 
was a no-mistake bear, by George! and the hero 
of the fight — well, I will not insist upon that. 

But what a procession that was, carrying the 
bear home! and what a congregation was speedily 
gathered in the valley to see the bear! Our best 
preacher up there never drew anything like it on 
Sunday. 

And I must say that my particular friends, who 
were sportsmen, behaved very well, on the whole. 
They did n’t deny that it was a bear, although 
they said it was small for a bear. Mr. Deane, who 
is equally good with a rifle and a rod, admitted 
that it was a very fair shot. 

He is probably the best salmon-fisher in the 
United States, and he is an equally good hunter. 
I suppose there is no person in America who is 
more desirous to kill a moose than he. But he 


HOW I KILLED A BEAR 


289 


needlessly remarked, after he had examined the 
wound in the bear, that he had seen that kind of a 
shot made by a cow’s horn. 

This sort of talk affected me not. When I went 
to sleep that night, my last delicious thought was, 
“I’ve killed a bear!” 

Chables Dudley Warner, In the Wilderness. 



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THE REAL PRINCESS 


There was once a Prince who wanted to marry 
a Princess; but she was to be a real princess. So 
he travelled about, all through the world, to find 
a real one, but everywhere there was something 
in the way. There were princesses enough, but 
whether they were real princesses he could not 
quite make out. There was always something that 
did not seem quite right. So he came home again, 
and was quite sad; for he wished so much to have 
a real princess. 

One evening a terrible storm came on. It light- 
ened and thundered, the rain streamed down; it 
was quite fearful! Then there was a knocking 
at the town gate, and the old King went out to 
open it. 

It was a Princess who stood outside the gate. 
But, mercy! how she looked, from the rain and 
the rough weather! The water ran down from 
her hair and her clothes. It ran in at the points 
of her shoes, and out at the heels. And yet she 
declared that she was a real princess. 

“Yes, we will soon find that out,” thought the 
old Queen. But she said nothing, only went into 
the bedchamber, took all the bedding off, and 
put a pea on the flooring of the bedstead. Then 


$94 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


she took twenty mattresses and laid them upon 
the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds upon 
the mattresses. On this the Princess had to lie all 
night. In the morning she was asked how she had 
slept. 

“O, miserably!” said the Princess. “I scarcely 
closed my eyes all night long. Goodness knows 
what was in my bed. I lay upon something hard, 
so that I am black and blue all over. It is quite 
dreadful!” 

Now they saw that she was a real princess, for 
through the twenty mattresses and the twenty 
eider-down beds she had felt the pea. No one but 
a real princess could be so delicate. 

So the Prince took her for his wife, for now he 
knew that he had a true princess. And the pea 
was put in the museum, and it is there now, unless 
somebody has carried it off. 

Look you, this is a true story. 

Hans Christian Andersen. 

TAPER TOM 

NORSE FOLK-TALE 

Once on a time there was a King, who had a 
daughter, and she was so lovely, that her good 
looks were well known far and near. But she 
was so sad and serious she could never be got to 
laugh; and besides, she was so high and mighty. 



THE TKINCESS WHO NEVER LAUGHED 










1 


TAPER TOM 


295 


that she said “No” to all who wooed her to wife, 
and she would have none of them, were they ever 
so grand — lords and princes, it was all the same. 

The Eang had long ago got tired of this, for he 
thought she might just as well marry, she, too, 
like the rest of the world. So he had it given out 
at the church door both quick and soon, that any 
one who could get his daughter to laugh should 
have her and half the kingdom. But if there 
was any one who tried and could not, he was to 
have three stripes cut out of his back, and salt 
rubbed in. 

And sure it was that there were many sore 
backs in that kingdom, for lovers and wooers 
came from north and south, and east and west, 
thinking it nothing at all to make a King’s 
daughter laugh. And brave fellows they were 
some of them too. But for all their tricks and 
capers, there sat the Princess, just as sad and 
serious as she had been before. 

Now hard by the palace lived a man who had 
three sons. They too had heard how the King 
had given it out that the man who could make 
the Princess laugh was to have her to wife and 
half the kingdom. 

The eldest, he was for setting off first. So he 
strode off. And when he came to the King’s 
grange, he told the King he would be glad to try 
to make the Princess laugh. 


296 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“All very well, my man,” said the King; “but 
it’s sure to be no good, for so many have been 
here and tried. My daughter is so sorrowful, it’s 
no use trying, and I don’t at all wish that any one 
should come to grief.” 

But the young man thought there was use. It 
could n’t be such a very hard thing for him to get 
the Princess to laugh. So many had laughed at 
him, both gentle and simple, when he had listed 
for a soldier, and learnt his drill under Corporal 
Jack. 

So he went off to the courtyard, under the 
Princess’s window, and began to go through his 
drill as Corporal Jack had taught him. But it 
was no good, the Princess was just as sad and 
serious, and did not so much as smile at him once. 
So they took him, and cut three broad, red stripes 
out of his back, and sent him home again. 

Well, he had hardly got home before the second 
brother set off. He was a schoolmaster, and a 
wonderful figure of fun beside. He was lop-sided, 
and was as tall and long as a Troll. Besides this, 
he was a powerful preacher. 

So when he came to the King’s grange, and said 
he wished to make the Princess laugh, the King 
thought it might not be so unlikely after all. 

“But Heaven help you,” he said, “ if you don’t 
make her laugh. We are for cutting the stripes 
broader and broader for every one that tries.” 


TAPER TOM 


297 


Then the schoolmaster strode off to the court- 
yard, and put himself before the Princess’s win- 
dow, and read and preached like seven parsons, 
and sang and chanted like seven clerks, as loud 
as all the parsons and clerks in the country 
round. 

The King laughed loud at him, and was forced 
to hold the posts in the gallery. And the Princess 
was just going to put a smile on her lips, but all 
at once she got as sad and serious as ever. 

And so it fared no better with Paul the school- 
master than with Peter the soldier — for you must 
know one was called Peter and the other Paul. 
So they took him and cut three red stripes out of 
his back, and rubbed the salt well in, and then 
they sent him home again. 

Then the youngest was all for setting out. His 
name was Taper Tom. But his brothers laughed 
and jeered at him, and showed him their sore 
backs. Nor would his father give him leave. For 
he said, how could it be of any use to him when 
he had no sense. Was n’t it true that he neither 
knew anything nor could do anything? 

There he sat in the ingle by the chimney-corner, 
like a cat, and grubbed in the ashes and split fir 
tapers. That was why they called him “Taper 
Tom.” 

But Taper Tom would n’t give in. He growled 
and grizzled so long, that they got tired of it, and 


g98 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


at last gave him leave to go to the King’s grange 
and try his luck. 

When he got to the King’s grange he did not 
say he wished to try to make the Princess laugh, 
but he asked if he could get a place there. No, 
they had no place for him. But for all that Taper 
Tom would n’t take no for an answer. 

They must want some one, he said, to carry 
wood and water for the kitchen-maid, in such a 
big grange as that — that was what he said. And 
the King thought it might very well be, for he 
too got tired of his worry. So the end was that 
Taper Tom got leave to stay there and carry 
wood and water for the kitchen-maid. 

One day when he was going to fetch water from 
the beck, he set eyes on a big fish which lay under 
an old fir stump, where the water had eaten into 
the bank. He put his bucket softly under the fish, 
and caught it. And as he was going home to the 
grange he met an old woman who led a golden 
goose by a string. 

“Good day, godmother,” said Taper Tom; 
“that’s a pretty bird you have got. And what 
fine feathers ! — they dazzle one a long way off. 
If one only had such feathers one might leave off 
splitting fir tapers.” 

The goody was just as pleased with the fish Tom 
had in his bucket, and said if he would give her 
the fish, he might have the golden goose. Now 


TAPER TOM 


299 


this was a wonderful goose. When any one 
touched it he stuck fast, if Tom only said, “Hang 
on, if you care to come with us.” 

Yes ! that swap Taper Tom was willing enough 
to make. 

“A bird is as good as a fish, any day,” he said 
to himself. “And if it is such a bird as you say, 
I can use it as a fish-hook.” That was what he 
said to the goody. 

Now he had n’t gone far before he met another 
old woman. And as soon as she saw the lovely 
golden goose she was all for running up to it 
and patting it. And she spoke so prettily, and 
coaxed him so, and begged him give her leave to 
stroke his lovely golden goose, that Taper Tom 
said: — 

“ With all my heart, but mind you don’t pluck 
out any of its feathers.” 

Just as she stroked the goose, he said: — 

“Hang on, if you care to come with us!” 

The goody pulled and tore, but she was forced 
to hang on, whether she would or no. And Taper 
Tom went before, as though he alone were with 
the golden goose. 

When he had gone a bit farther, he met a man 
who had a thorn in his side against the goody, for 
a trick she had played him. So when he saw how 
hard she struggled and strove to get free, and how 
fast she stuck, he thought he would be quite safe 


300 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


in giving her one for her nob, to pay off the old 
grudge, and so he just gave her a kick with his 
foot. 

“Hang on, if you care to come with us!” called 
out Tom. 

And then the man had to limp along on one 
leg, whether he would or no, and when he jibbed, 
and jibed, and tried to break loose, it was still 
worse for him, for he was all but falling flat on 
his back every step he took. 

So they went on a good bit until they had about 
come to the King’s grange. There they met the 
King’s smith who was going to the smithy, and 
had a great pair of tongs in his hand. Now you 
must know that this smith was a merry fellow 
who was as full of tricks and pranks as an egg is 
full of meat. And when he saw this string come 
hobbling and limping along, he laughed so that 
he was almost bent in two, and then he bawled 
out: — 

“Surely this is a new flock of geese the Princess 
is going to have. Who can tell which is goose and 
which gander? Ah! I see, this must be the gander 
that toddles in front. Goosey! Goosey! Goosey!” 
he called out. And with that he coaxed them to 
him, and threw his hands about as though he 
were scattering corn for the geese. 

But the flock never stopped — on it went, and 
all that the goody and the man did was to look 


TAPER TOM 301 

daggers at the smith for making game of them. 
Then the smith went on : — 

“It would be fine fun to see if I could hold the 
whole flock, so many as they are.” For he was a 
stout strong fellow, and so he took hold, with his 
big tongs by the old man’s coat tail, and the man 
all the while bellowed and wriggled. But Taper 
Tom only said: — 

“Hang on, if you care to come with us.” 

So the smith had to go along too. He bent his 
back and stuck his heels into the hill, and tried 
to get loose. But it was all no good. He stuck 
fast, as though he had been screwed tight with his 
own anvil. And whether he would or no he had 
to dance along with the rest. 

When they came near to the King’s grange, 
the mastiff ran out and began to bay and bark as 
though they were wolves or beggars. And when 
the Princess looked out of the window to see 
what was the matter, and set eyes on this strange 
pack, she laughed inwardly. But Taper Tom was 
not content with that. 

“Bide a bit,” he said, “she’ll soon have to 
open the door of her mouth wider,” and as he said 
that he turned off with his band to the back of 
the grange. 

As they passed by the kitchen, the door was 
standing open, and the cook was just beating the 
porridge. When she saw Taper Tom and his 


302 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


pack slie came running out, with her brush in one 
hand and a wooden ladle full of smoking porridge 
in the other. And she laughed as though her sides 
would split. 

When she saw the smith there too, she slapped 
her thigh and went off again in a loud peal. But 
when she had laughed her laugh out, she too 
thought the golden goose so lovely that she must 
stroke it. 

“Taper Tom! Taper Tom!” she bawled out, 
and came running out with the ladle of porridge 
in her fist, “may I have the leave to stroke that 
pretty bird of yours.^” 

“Better let her stroke me,” said the smith. 

“I dare say,” said Taper Tom. 

But when the cook heard that she got angry. 

“What is that you say?” she cried, and let fly 
at the smith with the ladle. 

“Hang on, if you care to come with us,” said 
Taper Tom. 

So she stuck fast, she too. And for all her kicks 
and plunges, and all her scolding and screaming, 
and all her riving and striving, and all her rage, 
she too had to limp along with them. 

But when they came outside the window of 
the Princess, there she stood, waiting for them. 
And when she saw they had taken the cook too, 
with her ladle and brush, she opened her mouth 
wide, and laughed loud, so that the King had to 
hold her upright. 


THE TALKATIVE PRINCESS 303 

So Taper Tom got the Princess and half the 
kingdom. And they had such a merry wedding, 
that it was heard and talked of far and wide. 

Peter Christen AsbjOrnsen, 

Tales Jr (ym the Fjeld, 


THE PRINCESS WHOM NOBODY COULD 
SILENCE 

NORSE FOLK-TALE 

There was once upon a time a King, and he 
had a daughter who would always have the last 
word. She was so perverse and contrary in 
her speech that no one could silence her. So the 
King promised that he who could outwit the 
Princess should have her hand in marriage and 
half the kingdom besides. There were plenty of 
those who wanted to try, I can assure you; for 
it is n’t every day that a Princess and haK a king- 
dom are to be had. 

The gate to the palace hardly ever stood still. 
The suitors came in swarms and flocks from east 
and west, both riding and walking. But there 
was no one who could silence the Princess. At 
last the King announced that those who tried 
and did not succeed should be branded on both 
ears with a large iron. He would not have all 
this running about the palace for nothing. 

So there were three brothers who had also 


S04 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


heard about the Princess, and, as they were 
rather badly off at home, they thought they would 
try their luck and see if they could win the Prin- 
cess and half the kingdom. They were good 
friends and so they agreed to set out together. 

When they had gone a short distance, Ashie- 
pattle found a dead magpie. 

“I have found something! I have found some- 
thing!” he cried. 

“What have you found?” asked the brothers. 

“I have found a dead magpie!” said he. 

“Faugh! throw it away; what can you do with 
that?” said the other two, who always believed 
they were the wisest. 

“Oh, I’ve nothing else to do, I can easily carry 
it,” said Ashiepattle. 

When they had gone a bit farther Ashiepattle 
found an old willow-twig, which he picked up. 

“I have found something! I have found some- 
thing!” cried he. 

“What have you found now?” said the 
brothers. 

“I have found a willow-twig,” said he. 

“Pooh! what are you going to do with that? 
Throw it away,” said the two. 

“I have nothing else to do, I can easily carry 
it with me,” said Ashiepattle. 

When they had gone still farther he found a 
broken saucer, which he also picked up. 


THE TALKATIVE PRINCESS S05 


“Here lads, I have found something! I have 
found something!” said he. 

“Well, what have you found now?” asked the 
brothers. 

“A broken saucer,” said he. 

“Pshaw! Is it worth while dragging that along 
with you too? Throw it away!” said the 
brothers. 

“Oh, I’ve nothing else to do, I can easily carry 
it with me,” said Ashiepattle. 

When they had gone a little bit farther he 
found a crooked goat-horn and soon after he found 
the fellow to it. 

“I have found something! I have found some- 
thing, lads!” said he. 

“What have you found now?” said the others. 

“Two goat-horns,” answered Ashiepattle. 

“Ugh! Throw them away! What are you 
going to do with them?” said they. 

“Oh, I have nothing else to do, I can easily 
carry them with me,” said Ashiepattle. 

In a little while he found a wedge. 

“I say, lads, I have found something! I have 
found something!” he cried. 

“ You are everlastingly finding something ! 
What have you found now? ” asked the others. 

“I have found a wedge,” he answered. 

“Oh, throw it away! What are your going to 
do with it?” said they. 


806 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Oh, I have nothing else to do, I can easily 
carry it with me,” said Ashiepattle. 

As he went across the King’s fields, which had 
been freshly manured, he stooped down and took 
up an old boot-sole. 

“Hullo, lads! I have found something, I have 
found something!” said he. 

“Heaven grant you may find a little sense 
before you get to the palace!” said the two. 
“What is it you have found now?” 

“An old boot-sole,” said he. 

“Is that anything worth picking up? Throw it 
away! What are you going to do with it?” said 
the brothers. 

“Oh, I have nothing else to do, I can easily 
carry it with me, and — who knows? — it may 
help me to win the Princess and half the king- 
dom,” said Ashiepattle. 

“Yes, you look a likely one, don’t you?” said 
the other two. 

So they went in to the Princess, the eldest first. 

“Good day!” said he. 

“ Good day to you ! ” answered she, with a shrug. 

“It’s terribly hot here,” said he. 

“It’s hotter in the fire,” said the Princess. The 
branding iron was lying waiting in the fire. 

When he saw this he was struck speechless, and 
so it was all over with him. 

The second brother fared no better. 


THE TALKATIVE PRINCESS 307 

“Good day!” said he. 

“Good day to you,” said she, with a wriggle. 

“It’s terribly hot here!” said he. 

“It’s hotter in the fire,” said she. With that 
he lost both speech and wits, and so the iron had 
to be brought out. 

Then came Ashiepattle’s turn. 

“Good day!” said he. 

“Good day to you!” said she, with a shrug and 
a wriggle. 

“It is very nice and warm here!” said Ashie- 
pattle. 

“It’s warmer in the fire,” she answered. She 
was in no better humour now she saw the third 
suitor. 

“Then there’s a chance for me to roast my 
magpie on it,” said he, bringing it out. 

“I’m afraid it will sputter,” said the Princess. 

“No fear of that! I’ll tie this willow-twig 
round it,” said the lad. 

“You can’t tie it tight enough,” said she. 

“Then I’ll drive in a wedge,” said the lad, and 
brought out the wedge. 

“The fat will be running off it,” said the 
Princess. 

“Then I’ll hold this under it,” said the lad, 
and showed her the broken saucer. 

“You are so crooked in your speech,” said the 
Princess. 


308 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“No, I am not crooked,” answered the lad; 
“but this is crooked”; and he brought out one of 
the goat-horns. 

“Well, I’ve never seen the like!” cried the 
Princess. 

“Here you see the like,” said he, and brought 
out the other horn. 

“It seems you have come here to wear out my 
soul!” she said. 

“No, I have not come here to wear out your 
soul, for I have one here which is already worn- 
out,” answered the lad, and brought out the old 
boot-sole. 

The Princess was so dumbfounded at this, that 
she was completely silenced. 

“Now you are mine!” said Ashiepattle, and so 
he got her and half the kingdom into the bargain. 

Peter Christen Asbjornsen. 

Fairy Tales from the Far North. 


THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS 

IRISH FOLK-TALE 

There was once a very worthy King, whose 
daughter was the greatest beauty that could be 
seen far or near, but she was as proud as Lucifer, 
and no King or Prince would she agree to marry. 
Her father was tired out at last, and invited 
every King, and Prince, and Duke, and Earl that 


THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS 309 

he knew or did n’t know to come to his court to 
give her one trial more. 

They all came, and next day after breakfast 
they stood in a row on the lawn, and the Princess 
walked along in the front of them to make her 
choice. 

One was fat, and says she, ‘‘I won’t have you. 
Beer-barrel!” 

One was tall and thin, and to him she said, “I 
won’t have you. Ramrod!” 

To a white-faced man she said, “I won’t have 
you. Pale Death.” 

And to a red-cheeked man she said, “I won’t 
have you. Cockscomb!” 

She stopped a little before the last of all, for he 
was a fine man in face and form. She wanted to 
find some defect in him, but he had nothing re- 
markable but a ring of brown curling hair under 
his chin. She admired him a little, and then 
carried it off with, “I won’t have you. Whiskers!” 

So they all went away, and the King was so 
vexed, he said to her, “Now to punish your im- 
pudence, I’ll give you to the first beggarman or 
singing sthronshuch that calls and, as sure as the 
hearth-money, a fellow all over rags, and hair that 
came to his shoulders, and a bushy red beard all 
over his face, came next morning, and began to 
sing before the parlour window. 

When the song was over, the hall-door was 


310 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


opened, the singer asked in, the priest brought, 
and the princess married to Beardy. She roared 
and she bawled, but her father did n’t mind her. 

“There,” says he to the bridegroom, “is five 
guineas for you. Take your wife out of my sight, 
and never let me lay eyes on you or her again.” 

Off he led her, and dismal enough she was. The 
only thing that gave her relief was the tones of 
her husband’s voice and his genteel manners. 

“Whose wood is this?” said she, as they were 
going through one. 

“It belongs to the King you called Whiskers 
yesterday.” He gave her the same answer about 
meadows and corn-fields, and at last a fine city. 

“Ah, what a fool I was!” said she to herself. 
“He was a fine man, and I might have him for a 
husband!” 

At last they were coming up to a poor cabin. 
“Why are you bringing me here?” says the poor 
lady. 

“This was my house,” said he, “and now it is 
yours.” 

She began to cry, but she was tired and hungry, 
and she went in with him. Ovoch! there was 
neither a table laid out, nor a fire burning, and she 
was obliged to help her husband to light it, and 
boil their dinner, and clean up the place after; 
and next day he made her put on a stuff gown and 
a cotton handkerchief. 


THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS 311 

When she had her house readied up, and 
no business to keep her employed, he brought 
home sallies (willows), peeled them, and showed 
her how to make baskets. But the hard twigs 
bruised her delicate fingers, and she began to cry. 

Well, then he asked her to mend their clothes, 
but the needle drew blood from her fingers, and 
she cried again. He couldn’t bear to see her 
tears, so he bought a creel of earthenware, and 
sent her to the market to sell them. 

This was the hardest trial of all, but she looked 
so handsome and sorrowful, and had such a nice 
air about her, that all her pans, and jugs, and 
plates, and dishes were gone before noon, and the 
only mark of her old pride she showed was a slap 
she gave a buckeen across the face when he axed 
her to go in an’ take share of a quart. 

Well, her husband was so glad, he sent her 
with another creel the next day; but faith! her 
luck was after deserting her. A drunken hunts- 
man came up riding, and his beast got in among 
her ware, and made brishe of every mother’s son 
of ’em. 

She went home cryin’, and her husband was n’t 
at all pleased. 

‘T see,” said he, “you’re not fit for business. 
Come along. I’ll get you a kitchen-maid’s place 
in the palace. I know the cook.” 

So the poor thing was obliged to stifle her pride 


312 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


once more. She was kept very busy, and the 
footman and the butler would be very impudent 
about looking for a kiss, but she let a screech out 
of her the first attempt was made, and the cook 
gave the fellow such a lambasting with the besom 
that he made no second offer. She went home to 
her husband every night, and she carried broken 
victuals wrapped in papers in her side pockets. 

A week after she got service there was a great 
bustle in the kitchen. The King was going to be 
married, but no one knew who the bride was to be. 
Well, in the evening the cook filled the Princess’s 
pockets with cold meat and puddens, and, says 
she: — 

“Before you go, let us have a look at the great 
doings in the big parlour.” 

So they came near the door to get a peep, and 
who should come out but the King himself, as 
handsome as you please, and no other but King 
Whiskers himself. 

“Your handsome helper must pay for her peep- 
ing,” said he to the cook, “and dance a jig with 
me.” 

Whether she would or no, he held her hand and 
brought her into the parlour. The fiddlers struck 
up, and away went him with her. But they had n’t 
danced two steps when the meat and the puddens 
flew out of her pockets. Every one roared out, and 
she flew to the door, crying piteously. But she 


THE SWINEHERD 313 

was soon caught by the King and taken into the 
back parlour. 

“Don’t you know me, my darling.?” said he. 
“I’m both King Whiskers, your husband the 
ballad-singer, and the drunken huntsman. Your 
father knew me well enough when he gave you 
to me, and all was to drive your pride out of you.” 

Well, she did n’t know how she was with fright, 
and shame, and joy. Love was uppermost any- 
how, for she laid her head on her husband’s breast 
and cried like a child. 

The maids-of-honour soon had her away and 
dressed her as fine as hands and pins could do it; 
and there were her mother and father, too. And 
while the company were wondering what had be- 
come of the handsome girl and the King, he and 
his Queen, who they did n’t know in her fine 
clothes, and the other King and Queen, came in, 
and such rejoicings and fine doings as there was, 
none of us will ever see, anyway. 

Pateick Kennedy. 

THE SWINEHERD 

There was once a poor Prince; he had a king- 
dom that was very small. Still it was quite large 
enough to marry upon; and he wished to marry. 

It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the 
Emperor’s daughter, “Will you have me?” But 


314 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


so he did; for his name was renowned far and 
wide; and there were a hundred Princesses who 
would have answered, “Thank you.” But see 
what she said. Now we will hear. 

By the grave of the Prince’s father there grew 
a rose-tree, — a most beautiful rose-tree. It 
blossomed only once in every five years, and even 
then bore only one flower, but that was a rose 
that smelt so sweet as to make one forget all cares 
and sorrows. 

And furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, 
who could sing in such a manner that it seemed 
as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little 
throat. So the Princess was to have the rose and 
the nightingale; and they were accordingly put 
into large silver caskets, and sent to her. 

The Emperor had them brought into a large 
hall, where the Princess was playing at “making 
calls,” with the ladies of the court; they never did 
anything else, and when she saw the caskets with 
the presents, she clapped her hands for joy. 

“Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat!” ex- 
claimed she; then out came the beautiful rose. 

“O, how prettily it is made! ” said all the court- 
ladies. 

“It is more than pretty,” said the Emperor; “it 
is charming!” 

But the Princess touched it, and was almost 
ready to cry. 


THE SWINEHERD 315 

“Fie, papa!” said she, “it is not made at all; it 
is natural!” 

“Fie!” cried all the court ladies; “it is natural!” 

“Let us see what is in the other casket, before 
we get into a bad humour,” proposed the Em- 
peror. So the Nightingale came forth, and sang 
so delightfully that at first no one could say any- 
thing ill-humoured of it. 

^'Superhe! charmant!** exclaimed the ladies; 
for they all used to chatter French, each one 
worse than her neighbour. 

“How much the bird reminds me of the musi- 
cal box that belonged to our blessed Empress!” 
remarked an old Knight. “Ah yes! it is the very 
same tone, the same execution.” 

“Yes! yes! ” said the Emperor, and he wept like 
a little child. 

“I will still hope that it is not a real bird,” said 
the Princess. 

“Yet it is a real bird,” said those who had 
brought it. 

“Well, then let the bird fly,” returned the 
Princess; and she positively refused to see the 
Prince. 

However, he was not to be discouraged; he 
daubed his face over brown and black; pulled his 
cap over his ears, and knocked at the door. 

“Good day. Emperor!” said he. “Can I have 
employment at the palace?” 


316 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“O there are so many that want a place!” said 
the Emperor; “well, let me see, I want some one 
to take care of the pigs, for we have a great many 
of them.” 

So the Prince was appointed “Imperial Swine- 
herd.” He had a dirty little room close by the 
pig-sty; and there he sat the whole day, and 
worked. By the evening, he had made a pretty 
little saucepan. Little bells were hung all around 
it; and when the pot was boiling, these bells 
tinkled in the most charming manner, and played 
the old melody: — 

^^Ah! thou dearest Augustine! 

All is gone, gone, gone / ” 

But what was still more curious, whoever held 
his finger in the smoke of this saucepan, imme- 
diately smelt all the dishes that were cooking on 
every hearth in the city. This, you see, was some- 
thing quite different from the rose. 

Now the Princess happened to walk that way. 
And when she heard the tune, she stood quite still, 
and seemed pleased; for she could play “Dearest 
Augustine.” It was the only piece she knew, and 
she played it with one finger. 

“Why, there is my piece!” said the Princess; 
“that Swineherd must certainly have been well 
educated! Here! Go in and ask him the price of 
the instrument.” 


THE SWINEHERD 317 

And so one of the court-ladies must run in. 
However, she drew on wooden slippers first. 

“What will you take for the saucepan.^” in- 
quired the lady. 

“I will have ten kisses from the Princess,” said 
the swineherd. 

“Mercy on us!” said the lady. 

“Yes, I cannot sell it for less,” said the Swine- 
herd. 

\ “Well, what does he say.^” asked the Princess. 

“I cannot tell you, really,” replied the lady; 
“it is too bad!” 

“Then you can whisper it!” So the lady 
whispered it. 

“He is an impudent fellow!” said the Princess, 
and she walked on. But when she had gone a little 
way, the bells tinkled so prettily, — 

**Ah! thou dearest Augustine! 

All is gone, gone, gone!'* 

“Stay,” said the Princess. “Ask him if he will 
have ten kisses from the ladies of my court.” 

“No, thank you!” answered the Swineherd: 
“ten kisses from the Princess, or I keep the sauce- 
pan myself.” 

“That must not be, either!” said the Princess; 
“but do you all stand before me, that no one may 
see us.” 

And the court-ladies placed themselves in front 


818 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


of her, and spread out their dresses. And so the 
Swineherd got ten kisses, and she got the sauce- 
pan. 

It was delightful! the saucepan was kept boiling 
all the evening, and the whole of the following day. 
They knew perfectly well what was cooking at 
every fire throughout the city, from the chamber- 
lain’s to the cobbler’s. The court-ladies danced, 
and clapped their hands. 

“We know who has soup and who has pancakes 
for dinner to-day, who has cutlets, and who has 
eggs. How interesting!” 

And “How interesting!” said the Lord Stew- 
ard’s wife. 

“Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an Emper- 
or’s daughter.” 

“Mercy on us,” said they all. 

The Swineherd — that is to say the Prince, for 
no one knew that he was other than an ill-favoured 
swineherd — let not a day pass without working 
at something. He at last constructed a rattle, 
which, when it was swung round, played all the 
waltzes and jig-tunes which have ever been heard 
since the creation of the world. 

“Ah, that is superbeV^ said the Princess when 
she passed by; “I have never heard prettier com- 
positions. Go in and ask him the price of the in- 
strument; but I won’t kiss him!” 

“He will have a hundred kisses from the 


THE SWINEHERD 319 

Princess!” said the court-lady who had been in 
to ask. 

“I think he is crazy!” said the Princess, and 
walked on. But when she had gone a little way, 
she stopped again. “One must encourage art,” 
said she; “I am the Emperor’s daughter. Tell 
him, he shall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses 
from me, and may take the rest from the ladies of 
the court.” 

“Oh! but we should not like that at all!” said 
the court-ladies. 

“What are you muttering?” asked the Prin- 
cess; “if I can kiss him, surely you can! Remem- 
ber, I give you your food and wages.” So the 
court-ladies were obliged to go to him again. 

“A hundred kisses from the Princess!” said he, 
“or else let every one keep his own.” 

“Stand round!” said she; and all the ladies 
stood round her whilst the kissing was going 
on. 

“What can be the reason for such a crowd 
close by the pig-sty?” said the Emperor, who 
happened just then to step out on the balcony. 
He rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles. 
“They are the ladies of the court; there is some 
play going on. I must go down and see what they 
are about!” So he pulled up his slippers at the 
heel, for he had trodden them down. 

Heh there! what a hurry he is in. 


S20 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


As soon as he had got into the court-yard, he 
moved very softly, and the ladies were so much 
engrossed with counting the kisses, that all might 
go on fairly, that they did not perceive the Em- 
peror. He rose on his tiptoes. 

“What is all this?” said he, when he saw what 
was going on, and he boxed the Princess’s ears 
with his slipper, just as the Swineherd was taking 
the eighty-sixth kiss. 

“Off with you!” cried the Emperor, for he was 
very angry; and both Princess and Swineherd 
were thrust out of the city. 

The Princess now stood and wept, the Swine- 
herd scolded, and the rain poured down. 

“O how miserable I am!” said the Princess. 
“K I had but married the handsome young 
Prince! Ah! how unfortunate I am!” 

And the Swineherd went behind a tree, washed 
the black-and-brown colour from his face, threw 
off his dirty clothes, and stepped forth in his 
princely robes. He looked so noble that the 
Princess could not help bowing before him. 

“I am come to despise thee,” said he. “Thou 
wouldst not have an honourable prince! thou 
couldst not prize the rose and the nightingale, 
but thou wast ready to kiss the Swineherd for the 
sake of a trumpery plaything. Now thou hast thy 
deserts!” 

He then went back to his own little kingdom. 


THE SWINEHERD 321 

and shut the door of his palace in her face. Now 
she might well sing, 

**Ah! thou dearest Augustine! 

All is gone, gone, gone! 

Hans Christian Andersen. 








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TERRIBLE TRUE TRAVELLERS’ TALES 



BARON MUNCHAUSEN GOES 
A-HUNTING 

One morning I saw, through the windows of 
my bedroom, that a large pond not far off was 
covered with wild ducks. In an instant I took my 
gun from the corner, ran downstairs and out of 
the house in such a hurry that I imprudently 
struck my face against the door-post. Fire flew 
out of my eyes, but it did not prevent my inten- 
tion; I soon came within shot, when, levelling my 
piece, I observed to my sorrow that even the 
flint had sprung from the cock by the violence of 
the shock I had just received. 

There was no time to be lost. I presently re- 
membered the effect it had on my eyes, therefore 
opened the pan, levelled my piece against the wild 
fowls, and my fist against one of my eyes. [The 
Baron’s eyes have retained fire ever since, and 
appear particularly illuminated when he relates 
this anecdote.] A hearty blow drew sparks again; 
the shot went off, and I killed fifty brace of ducks, 
twenty widgeons, and three couple of teals. 

Presence of mind is the soul of manly exercises. 
If soldiers and sailors owe to it many of their 
lucky escapes, hunters and sportsmen are not less 
beholden to it for many of their successes. In a 


S26 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


noble forest in Russia I met a fine black fox, 
whose valuable skin it would have been a pity 
to tear by ball or shot. Reynard stood close to a 
tree. In a twinkling I took out my ball, and 
placed a good spike-nail in its room, fired, and 
hit him so cleverly that I nailed his brush fast to 
the tree. I now went up to him, took out my 
hanger, gave him a cross-cut over the face, laid 
hold of my whip, and fairly flogged him out of his 
fine skin. 

Chance and good luck often correct our mis- 
takes; of this I had a singular instance soon after, 
when, in the depths of a forest, I saw a wild pig 
and sow running close behind each other. My 
ball had missed them, yet the foremost pig only 
ran away, and the sow stood motionless, as fixed 
to the ground. On examining into the matter, I 
found the latter one to be an old sow, blind with 
age, which had taken hold of her pig’s tail, in 
order to be led along by filial duty. 

My ball, having passed between the two, had 
cut his leading-string, which the old sow con- 
tinued to hold in her mouth; and as her former 
guide did not draw her on any longer, she had 
stopped of course; I therefore laid hold of the 
remaining end of the pig’s tail, and led the old 
beast home without any further trouble on my 
part, and without any reluctance or apprehension 
on the part of the helpless old animal. 


BARON MUNCHAUSEN 


327 


Terrible as these wild sows are, yet more fierce 
and dangerous are the boars, one of which I had 
once the misfortune to meet in the forest, un- 
prepared for attack or defense. I retired behind 
an oak-tree just when the furious animal levelled 
a side-blow at me, with such force that his tusks 
pierced through the tree, by which means he 
could neither repeat the blow nor retire. Ho, ho! 
thought I, I shall soon have you now! and imme- 
diately I laid hold of a stone, wherewith I ham- 
mered and bent his tusks in such a manner that 
he could not retreat by any means, and must wait 
my return from the next village, whither I went 
for ropes and a cart, to secure him properly, and to 
carry him off safe and alive, in which I perfectly 
succeeded. 

Having one day spent all my shot, I found my- 
self unexpectedly in the presence of a stately stag, 
looking at me as unconcernedly as if he had known 
of my empty pouches. I charged immediately 
with powder, and upon it a good handful of cherry- 
stones, for I had sucked the fruit as far as the 
hurry would permit. Thus I let fiy at him, and 
hit him just on the middle of the forehead be- 
tween his antlers; it stunned him — he staggered 
— yet he made off. A year or two after, being 
with a party in the same forest, I beheld a noble 
stag with a fine full-grown cherry-tree above ten 
feet high between his antlers. 


328 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


I immediately recollected my former adventure, 
looked upon him as my property, and brought 
him to the ground by one shot, which at once 
gave me the haunch and cherry-sauce; for the 
tree was covered with the richest fruit, the like I 
had never tasted before. 

There is a kind of fatality in it. The fiercest 
and most dangerous animals generally came upon 
me when defenseless, as if they had a notion or an 
instinctive intimation of it. Thus a frightful wolf 
rushed upon me so suddenly, and so close, that I 
could do nothing but follow mechanical instinct, 
and thrust my fist into his open mouth. For 
safety’s sake I pushed on and on, till my arm was 
fairly in up to the shoulder. How should I dis- 
engage myself I was not much pleased with my 
awkward situation — with a wolf face to face; 
our ogling was not of the most pleasant kind. If 
I withdrew my arm, then the animal would fly 
the more furiously upon me; — that, I saw in his 
flaming eyes. In short, I laid hold of his tail, 
turned him inside out like a glove, and flung him 
to the ground, where I left him. 

Rudolf Erich Raspe, 
Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 


DANIEL O’ROURKE’S VOYAGE 329 


, THE ASTOUNDING VOYAGE OF 
DANIEL O’ROURKE 

People may have heard of the renowned ad- 
ventures of Daniel O’Rourke, but how few are 
there who know that the cause of all his perils was 
neither more nor less than his having slept under 
the walls of the Pooka’s Tower. 

I knew the man well: he lived at the bottom 
of Hungry Hill, just at the right-hand side of the 
road as you go towards Ban try. An old man was 
he, at the time he told me the story, with grey 
hair, and a red nose. And it was on the 25th of 
June, 1813, that I heard it from his own lips, as 
he sat smoking his pipe under the old poplar tree, 
on as fine an evening as ever shone from the sky. 

“I am often axed to tell it, sir,” said he, “so 
that this is not the first time. To make a long 
story short, I got, once on a time, the same thing 
as tipsy, almost. And so as I was crossing the 
stepping-stones of the ford of Ballyasheenogh, 
I missed my foot, and souse I fell into the water. 
‘Death alive,’ thought I, ‘I’ll be drowned now!’ 

“However, I began swimming, swimming, 
swimming away for the dear life, till at last I got 
ashore, somehow or other, but never the one of 
me can tell me how, upon a dissolute island. 

“I wandered and wandered about there, with- 


330 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


out knowing where I wandered, until at last I 
got into a big bog. The moon was shining as 
bright as day, and I looked east and west and 
north and south, and every way, and nothing did 
I see but bog, bog, bog. 

“I began to scratch my head, and sing the 
Lament, — when all of a sudden the moon grew 
black, and I looked up, and saw something for all 
the world as if it was moving down between me 
and it, and I could not tell what it was. Down 
it came with a pounce, and looked at me full in 
the face; and what was it but an eagle? as fine 
a one as ever flew from the kingdom of Kerry. 

“So he looked at me in the face, and says he to 
me, ‘Daniel O’Rourke,’ says he, ‘How do you 
do?’ 

“‘Very well, I thank you, sir,’ says I; ‘I hope 
you’re well,’ wondering out of my senses all the 
time how an eagle came to speak like a Christian. 

“‘What brings you here, Dan?’ says he. 

“‘Nothing at all, sir,’ says I, ‘only I wish I was 
safe home again.’ 

“‘Is it out of the island you want to go, Dan?’ 
says he. 

‘“’Tis, sir,’ says I, so I up and told him how I 
had taken a drop too much, and fell into the 
water; how I swam to the island; and how I got 
into the bog and did not know my way out of it. 

“‘Dan,’ says he, after a minute’s thought. 


DANIEL O’ROURKE’S VOYAGE 331 

‘though it is very improper for you to get drunk, 
yet as you are a decent sober man, who never 
flings stones at me or mine, nor cries out after us 
in the flelds, — my life for yours,’ says he, ‘so get 
up on my back, and grip me well for fear you’d 
fall off, and I’ll fly you out of the bog.’ 

‘“I am afraid,’ says I, ‘your honour’s making 
game of me; for who ever heard of riding a-horse- 
back on an eagle before?’ 

‘“’Pon the honour of a gentleman,’ says he, 
putting his right foot on his breast, ‘ I am quite in 
earnest; and so now either take my offer or starve 
in the bog — besides, I see that your weight is 
sinking the stone.’ 

“It was true enough as he said, for I found the 
stone every minute going from under me. I had 
no choice; so thinks I to myself, ‘faint heart never 
won fair lady!’ 

“‘I thank your honour,’ says I, ‘for the loan of 
your civility; and I’ll take your kind offer.’ I 
therefore mounted upon the back of the eagle, and 
held him tight enough by the throat, and up he 
flew in the air like a lark. Little I knew the trick 
he was going to serve me. Up — up — up he 
flew. 

“‘Why then,’ said I to him, — thinking he did 
not know the right road home, — very civilly, 
because why? I was in his power entirely; ‘sir,’ 
says I, ‘please your honour’s glory, and with 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


humble submission to your better judgment, if 
you’d fly down a bit, you’re now just over my 
cabin, and I could be put down there, and many 
thanks to your worship.’ 

^'^Arrahl Dan,’ said he, ‘do you think me a 
fool? Look down in the next field and don’t you 
see two men and a gun? By my word it would be 
no joke to be shot this way to oblige a drunken 
blackguard that I picked up off of a could stone 
in a bog.’ 

“‘Bother you,’ said I to myself, but I did not 
speak out, for where was the use. Well, sir, up he 
kept flying, flying, and I asking him every minute 
to fly down, and all to no use. 

“‘Where in the world are you going, sir?’ says 
I to him. 

“‘Hold your tongue, Dan,’ says he; ‘mind your 
own business, and don’t be interfering with the 
business of other people.’ 

‘“Faith, this is my business, I think,’ says I. 

‘“Be quiet, Dan,’ says he; so I said no more. 

“At last where should we come to, but to the 
moon itself. Now you can’t see it from this, but 
there is, or there was in my time, a reaping-hook 
sticking out of the side of the moon. 

“ ‘Dan,’ said the eagle, ‘I’m tired with this long 
fly; I had no notion ’t was so far.’ 

‘“And, my lord, sir,’ said I, ‘who in the world 
axed you to fly so far — was it I? did not I beg 


DANIEL O’ROURKE’S VOYAGE 333 

and pray and beseech you to stop half an hour 
ago?’ 

‘“There’s no use talking, Dan,’ said he; T’m 
tired bad enough, so you must get off, and sit 
down on the moon until I rest myself.’ 

‘“Is it sit down on the moon? ’ said I; ‘is it upon 
that little round thing, then? why, then, sure I’d 
fall off in a minute, and be kilt and spilt, and 
smashed all to bits. You are a vile deceiver, so 
you are!’ 

“‘Not at all, Dan,’ said he; ‘you can catch fast 
hold of the reaping-hook that’s sticking out of 
the side of the moon, and ’t will keep you up.’ 

“‘I won’t, then,’ said I. 

‘“Maybe not,’ said he, quite quiet. ‘If you 
don’t, my man, I shall just give you a shake, and 
one slap of my wing, and send you down to the 
ground, where every bone in your body will be 
smashed as small as a drop of dew on a cabbage- 
leaf in the morning.’ 

“‘Why, then, I’m in a fine way,’ said I to my- 
self, ‘ ever to have come along with the likes of 
you’; so I got off his back with a heavy heart, 
took hold of the reaping-hook, and sat down 
upon the moon, and a mighty cold seat it was, I 
can tell you that. 

“When he had me there fairly landed, he 
turned about on me and said, ‘Good morning to 
you, Daniel O’Rourke,’ said he, ‘I think I’ve 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


S34. 

nicked you fairly now. You robbed my nest last 
year’ (’t was true enough for him, but how he 
found it out is hard to say), ‘and in return you 
are freely welcome to cool your heels dangling 
upon the moon like a cockthrow.’ 

“‘Is that all, and is this the way you leave me, 
you brute you.^^’ says I. ‘You ugly, unnatural 
baste, and is this the way you serve me at last? 
Bad luck to yourself, with your hooked nose, and 
to all your breed, you blackguard!’ 

“ ’T was all to no manner of use; he spread out 
his great big wings, burst out a laughing, and 
flew away like lightning. I bawled after him to 
stop; but I might have called and bawled for- 
ever, without his minding me. Away he went, 
and I never saw him from that day to this — sor- 
row fly away with him! 

“You may be sure I was in a disconsolate con- 
dition, and kept roaring out for the bare grief, 
when all at once a door opened right in the 
middle of the moon, creaking on its hinges, as if 
it had not been opened for a month before; and 
out there walks, — who do you think, but the 
Man in the Moon himself? 

“‘Good morrow to you, Daniel O’Rourke,’ 
said he, ‘how do you do?’ 

“‘Very well, thank your honour,’ said I. ‘I 
hope your honour ’s well.’ 

“‘What brought you here, Dan?’ said he. 


DANIEL O’ROURKE’S VOYAGE 335 


“So I told him how I was cast on a dissolute 
island, and how I lost my way in the bog, and how 
the thief of an eagle promised to fly me out of it, 
and how instead of that he had fled me up to the 
moon. 

f “‘Dan,’ said the Man in the Moon, taking a 
pinch of snuff when I was done, ‘you must not 
stay here.’ 

“‘Indeed, sir,’ says I, ‘’t is much against my 
will I’m here at all; but how am I to go back.^^’ 

“‘That’s your business, ’said he: ‘Dan, mine 
is to tell you that here you must not stay, so be 
off in less than no time.’ 

“‘I’m doing no harm,’ says I, ‘only holding 
on hard by the reaping-hook, lest I fall off.’ 

“ ‘That ’s what you must not do, Dan,’ says he, 
‘and you’d better let go the reaping-hook.’ 

“‘Faith and with your leave,’ says I, ‘I’ll not 
let go the grip, and the more you bids me, the 
more I won’t let go, — so I will.’ 

“‘You had better, Dan,’ says he again. 

“‘Why, then, my little fellow,’ says I, taking 
the whole weight of him with my eye from head 
to foot, ‘there are two words to that bargain; and 
I ’ll not budge, but you may if you like.’ 

“ ‘ We ’ll see how that is to be,’ says he; and back 
he went, giving the door such a great bang after 
him (for it was plain he was huffed), that I 
thought the moon and all would fall down with it. 


336 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Well, I was preparing myself to try strength 
with him, when back again he comes, with the 
kitchen cleaver in his hand, and, without saying 
a word, he gives two bangs to the handle of the 
reaping-hook that was keeping me up, and whap / 
it came in two. 

“‘Good morning to you, Dan,’ says the spite- 
ful little old blackguard, when he saw me cleanly 
falling down with a bit of the handle in my hand. 
‘I thank you for your visit, and fair weather 
after you, Daniel!’ 

“I had not time to make any answer to him, 
for I was tumbling over and over, and rolling and 
rolling, at the rate of a fox-hunt. 

“ ‘By this and that,’ says I, ‘but this is a pretty 
pickle for a decent man to be seen in at this time 
of night; I am now sold fairly! ’ The word was not 
out of my mouth when, whiz I what should fly by 
close to my ear but a flock of wild geese; all the 
way from my own bog of Ballyasheenogh, else 
how should they know me ? 

“The ould gander, who was their general, turn- 
ing about his head, cried out to me, ‘Is that you, 
Dan?’ 

“‘The same,’ said I, not a bit daunted now at 
what he said, for I was by this time used to all 
kinds of bedevilment, and, besides, I knew him 
of ould. 

“‘Good morrow to you,’ says he, ‘Daniel 


DANIEL O’ROURKE’S VOYAGE 337 

O’Rourke. How are you in health this morn- 
ing?’ 

“‘Very well, sir,’ says I, ‘I thank you kindly,’ 
drawing my breath, for I was mightily in want of 
some. ‘I hope your honour ’s the same.’ 

“‘I think ’t is falling you are, Daniel,’ says he. 

“‘You may say that, sir,’ says I. 

‘“And where are you going all the way so 
fast?’ said the gander. 

“So I told him how I came on the island, and 
how I lost my way in the bog, and how the thief 
of an eagle flew me up to the moon, and how the 
Man in the Moon turned me out. 

“‘Dan,’ said he, ‘I’ll save you. Put out your 
hand and catch me by the leg, and I’ll fly you 
home.’ 

“ ‘Sweet is your hand in a pitcher of honey, my 
jewel,’ says I, though all the time I thought within 
myseK that ‘I don’t much trust you.’ But there 
was no help, so I caught the gander by the leg, and 
away I and the other geese flew after him as fast 
as hops. 

“We flew, and we flew, and we flew until we 
came right over the wide ocean. I knew it well, 
for I saw Cape Clear to my right hand sticking 
up out of the water. 

“ ‘ Ah ! my lord,’ said I to the goose, for I thought 
it best to keep a civil tongue in my head, any- 
way: ‘fly to land, if you please.’ 


338 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“‘It is impossible, you see, Dan,’ said he, ‘for 
a while, because you see we are going to Arabia.’ 

“‘To Arabia!’ said I, ‘that ’s surely some place 
in foreign parts, far away. Oh! Mr. Goose; why 
then, to be sure, I ’m a man to be pitied among 
you.’ 

“‘Whist, whist, you fool!’ said he, ‘hold your 
tongue; I tell you Arabia is a very decent sort of 
place, as like West Carbery as one egg is like 
another, only there is a little more sand there.’ 

“Just as we were talking a ship hove in sight, 
scudding so beautiful before the wind. ‘Ah! then 
sir,’ said I, ‘will you drop me on the ship, if you 
please.^’ 

“ ‘ We are not fair over it,’ said he, ‘if I dropped 
you now you would go splash into the sea.’ 

“I would not,’ says I, ‘I know better than that, 
for it is just clean under us. So let me drop now 
at once.’ 

‘“If you must, you must,’ said he. ‘There, 
take your own way; ’ and he opened his claw, and, 
faith, he was right — sure enough I came down 
plump into the very bottom of the salt sea! 

“ Down to the very bottom I went, and I gave 
myself up then for ever, when a whale walked up 
to me, and looked me full in the face, and never 
the word did he say, but lifting up his tail, he 
splashed me all over again with the cold salt 
water till there was n’t a dry stitch upon my 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE 839 


whole carcass; and I heard somebody saying, — 

’t was a voice I knew too: — 

“‘Get up, you drunken brute, off o’ that.’ 

“And with that I woke up, and there was Judy 
with a tub full of water, which she was splashing 
all over me, — for, rest her soul! though she was 
a good wife, she never could bear to see me in 
drink, and had a bitter hand of her own. 

“ ‘ Get up! ’ said sheagain, ‘ and of all places in the 
parish would no place sarve your turn to lie down 
upon but under the ould walls of Carriga-pooka? 
An uneasy resting I am sure you had of it!’ 

“And sure enough I had; for I was fairly both- 
ered out of my senses with eagles and men of the 
moons, and flying ganders, and whales, driving 
me through bogs, and up to the moon, and down 
to the bottom of the green ocean. Long will it be 
before I ’ll lie down in the same spot again, I know 
that.” 

Attributed to Dr. William Maginn. 

THE THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE OF 
SCHEHERAZADE 

BEING A VOYAGE OF SINBAD THE SAILOR 
Truth is stranger than fiction. — Old Saying. 

“My dear sister,” said Scheherazade, on the 
thousand-and-second night, “now that all this 
little diflSculty about my being put to death has 


340 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


blown over, I feel that I have been guilty of great 
indiscretion in withholding from you and the 
King (who, I am sorry to say, snores — a thing 
no gentleman would do) the full conclusion of the 
history of Sinbad the sailor. This person went 
through numerous other and more interesting 
adventures than those which I related; but the 
truth is, I felt sleepy on the night I told them, 
and so cut them short. But even yet it is not 
too late to remedy my great neglect — and as 
soon as I have given the King a pinch or two in 
order to wake him up so far that he may stop 
making that horrible noise, I will forthwith enter- 
tain you (and him, if he pleases), with the sequel 
of this remarkable story.” 

Hereupon the sister of Scheherazade expressed 
no great pleasure; but the King, having been 
pinched, at length ceased snoring, and finally 
said, “Hum!” and then, “Hoo!” The Queen, 
understanding these words (which are no doubt 
Arabic) to signify that he was all attention and 
would do his best not to snore any more, re- 
entered into the history of Sinbad the sailor. 

“‘At length, in my old age’ (these are the 
words of Sinbad himself, as retailed by Schehera- 
zade), — ‘at length, in my old age, and after 
enjoying many years of tranquillity at home, I 
became once more possessed with a desire of visit- 
ing foreign countries. And one day, without 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE 341 

acquainting any of my family with my design, I 
packed up some bundles of such merchandise as 
was most precious and least bulky, and, engaging a 
porter to carry them, went with him down to the 
seashore, to wait the arrival of any chance vessel 
that might convey me out of the Kingdom into 
some region which I had not as yet explored. 

“‘Having deposited the packages upon the 
sands, we sat down beneath some trees, and 
looked out into the ocean in the hope of perceiving 
a ship, but during several hours we saw none 
whatever. At length I fancied that I could hear 
a singular buzzing or humming sound — and the 
porter, after listening awhile, declared that he 
also could distinguish it. Presently it grew 
louder, and then still louder, so that we could 
have no doubt that the object which caused it 
was approaching us. 

“‘At length, on the edge of the horizon, we dis- 
covered a black speck, which rapidly increased in 
size until we made it out to be a vast monster, 
swimming with a great part of its body above the 
surface of the sea. It came towards us with in- 
conceivable swiftness, throwing up huge waves of 
foam around its breast and illuminating all that 
part of the sea through which it passed with a 
long line of fire that extended far off into the dis- 
tance. 

“‘As the thing drew near we saw it very dis- 


342 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


tinctly. Its length was equal to that of three of 
the loftiest trees that grow, and it was as wide 
as the great hall of audience in your palace, O 
most Sublime and Munificent of the Caliphs. Its 
body, which was unlike that of ordinary fishes, 
was as solid as a rock, and of a jetty blackness 
throughout all that portion of it which floated 
above the water, with the exception of a narrow 
blood-red streak that completely begirdled it. 

“‘The belly, which floated beneath the siu*face, 
and of which we could get only a glimpse now and 
then as the monster rose and fell with the billows, 
was entirely covered with metallic scales, of a 
colour like that of the moon in misty weather. The 
back was flat and nearly white, and from it there 
extended upwards six spines, about half the 
length of the whole body. 

“‘This horrible creature had no mouth that we 
could perceive; but, as if to make up for this de- 
ficiency, it was provided with at least four score 
of eyes, that protruded from their sockets like 
those of the green dragon-fly and were arranged 
all around the body in two rows, one above the 
other, and parallel to the blood-red streak, which 
seemed to answer the purpose of an eyebrow. 
Two or three of these dreadful eyes were much 
larger than the others, and had the appearance of 
solid gold. 

“ ‘Although this beast approached us, as I have 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE 343 


before said, with the greatest rapidity, it must 
have been moved altogether by necromancy — 
for it had neither fins like a fish, nor web-feet like 
a duck, nor wings like the seashell which is blown 
along in the manner of a vessel. Nor yet did it 
writhe itself forward as do the eels. 

“‘Its head and its tail were shaped precisely 
alike, only, not far from the latter were two small 
holes that served for nostrils, and through which 
the monster puffed out its thick breath with 
prodigious violence, and with a shrieking, dis- 
agreeable noise. 

“‘Our terror at beholding this hideous thing 
was very great; but it was even surpassed by our 
astonishment, when upon getting a nearer look, 
we perceived upon the creature’s back a vast 
number of animals about the size and shape of 
men, and altogether much resembling them, ex- 
cept that they wore no garments (as men do), 
being supplied (by nature, no doubt) with an 
ugly uncomfortable covering, a great deal like 
cloth, but fitting so tight to the skin as to render 
the poor wretches laughably awkward and put 
them apparently to severe pain. 

“‘On the very tips of their heads were certain 
square-looking boxes, which, at first sight, I 
thought might have been intended to answer as 
turbans, but I soon discovered that they were 
excessively heavy and solid, and I therefore con- 


S44 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


eluded they were contrivances designed, by their 
great weight, to keep the heads of the animals 
steady and safe upon their shoulders. 

“‘Around the necks of the creatures were 
fastened black collars (badges of servitude, no 
doubt), such as we keep on our dogs, only much 
wider and infinitely stiff er — so that it was quite 
impossible for these poor victims to move their 
heads in any direction without moving the body 
at the same time; and thus they were doomed to 
the perpetual contemplation of their noses. 

“‘When the monster had nearly reached the 
shore where we stood, it suddenly pushed out one 
of its eyes to a great extent, and emitted from it 
a terrible flash of fire, accompanied by a dense 
cloud of smoke, and a noise that I can compare 
to nothing but thunder. 

“‘As the smoke cleared away, we saw one of 
the odd man-animals standing near the head of 
the large beast with a trumpet in his hand, 
through which (putting it to his mouth) he 
presently addressed us in loud, harsh, and dis- 
agreeable accents, that, perhaps, we should have 
mistaken for language, had they not come al- 
together through the nose. 

“‘Being thus evidently spoken to, I was at a 
loss how to reply, as I could in no manner under- 
stand what was said. And in this difficulty I 
turned to the porter, who was near swooning 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE 345 


through affright, and demanded of him his opin- 
ion as to what species of monster it was, what it 
wanted, and what kind of creatures those were 
that so swarmed upon its back. 

“‘To this the porter replied, as well as he could 
for trepidation, that he had once before heard of 
this sea beast; that it was a cruel demon, with 
bowels of sulphur and blood of fire, created by 
evil genii as the means of indicting misery upon 
mankind; that the things upon its back were 
vermin, such as sometimes infest cats and dogs, 
only a little larger and more savage; that these 
vermin had their uses, however evil — for, 
through the torture they caused the beast by their 
nibblings and stingings, it was goaded into that 
degree of wrath which was requisite to make it 
roar and commit ill, and so fulfil the vengeful and 
malicious designs of the wicked genii. 

“‘This account determined me to take to my 
heels, and, without once even looking behind me, 
I ran at full speed up into the hills, while the 
porter ran equally fast, although nearly in an 
opposite direction, so that, by these means, he 
finally made his escape with my bundles, of which 
I have no doubt he took excellent care — al- 
though this is a point I cannot determine, as I do 
not remember that I ever beheld him again. 

“‘For myself, I was so hotly pursued by a 
swarm of the men- vermin (who had come to the 


346 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


shore in boats) that I was very soon overtaken, 
bound hand and foot, and conveyed to the beast, 
which immediately swam out again into the 
middle of the sea. 

“‘I now bitterly repented my folly in quitting 
a comfortable home to peril my life in such ad- 
ventures as this. But regret being useless, I made 
the best of my condition, and exerted myself to 
secure the good-will of the man-animal that owned 
the trumpet, and that appeared to exercise au- 
thority over its fellows. 

“‘I succeeded so well in this endeavour that, 
in a few days, the creature bestowed upon me va- 
rious tokens of its favour, and in the end, even 
went to the trouble of teaching me the rudiments 
of what it was vain enough to denominate its 
language. So that, at length, I was enabled to 
converse with it readily, and came to make it 
comprehend the ardent desire I had of seeing the 
world. 

^^^^^Washish squashish squeak, Sinbad, hey- 
diddle diddle, grunt unt grumble, hiss fiss, whiss/* 
said he to me, one day after dinner — ‘ but I beg 
a thousand pardons, I had forgotten that your 
majesty is not conversant with the dialect of the 
Cock neighs’ (so the man-animals were called; I 
presume because their language formed the con- 
necting link between that of the horse and that 
of the rooster). 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE 347 


“‘With your permission, I will translate. 
^^Washish squashish/' and so forth: — that is to 
say, “I am happy to find, my dear Sinbad, that 
you are really a very excellent fellow. We are now 
about doing a thing which is called circumnavi- 
gating the globe. And since you are so desirous of 
seeing the world, I will strain a point and give you 
a free passage upon the back of the beast.”’” 

When the Lady Scheherazade had proceeded 
thus far, the King turned over from his left side 
to his right, and said : — 

“It is, in fact, very surprising, my dear Queen, 
that you omitted, hitherto, these latter adven- 
tures of Sinbad. Do you know I think them ex- 
ceedingly entertaining and strange?” 

The King having thus expressed himself, the 
fair Scheherazade resumed her history in the fol- 
lowing words : — 

“Sinbad went on in this manner, with his 
narrative — ‘I thanked the man-animal for its 
kindness, and soon found myself very much at 
home on the beast, which swam at a prodigious 
rate through the ocean. Although the surface 
of the latter is, in that part of the world, by no 
means flat, but round like a pomegranate, so that 
we went — so to say — either up hill or down hill 
all the time.’” 

“That, I think, was very singular,” inter- 
rupted the King. 


348 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Nevertheless, it is quite true,” replied Sche- 
herazade. 

“I have my doubts,” rejoined the King; “but, 
pray, be so good as to go on with the story.” 

“I will,” said the Queen. “‘The beast,’ con- 
tinued Sinbad, ‘swam, as I have related, up hill 
and down hill, until, at length, we arrived at an 
island, many hundreds of miles in circumference, 
but which, nevertheless, had been built in the 
middle of the sea by a colony of little things like 
caterpillars.’” ^ 

“Hum!” said the King. 

“‘Leaving this island,’ said Sinbad” — (for 
Scheherazade, it must be understood, took no 
notice of her husband’s ill-mannered ejaculation) 
— “ ‘ leaving this island, we came to another where 
the forests were of solid stone, and so hard that 
they shivered to pieces the finest-tempered axes 
with which we endeavoured to cut them down.’ ” ^ 

“Hum!” said the King again; but Schehera- 
zade, paying him no attention, continued in the 
language of Sinbad. 

“‘Passing beyond this last island, we reached 
a country where there was a cave that ran to the 
distance of thirty or forty miles within the bowels 
of the earth, and that contained a greater num- 
ber of far more spacious and more magnificent 

1 The corallites. 

2 The petrified forest in the United States. 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE S49 

palaces than are to be found in all Damascus and 
Bagdad. 

“‘From the roofs of these palaces there hung 
myriads of gems, like diamonds, but larger than 
men. And in among the streets of towers and 
pyramids and temples, there flowed immense 
rivers as black as ebony, and swarming with flsh 
that had no eyes.’” ^ 

“Fiddle de dee,” said the King. 

“‘We came to another country where we were 
terrifled by the appearance of a fowl infinitely 
larger than even the rocs which I met in my 
former voyages; for it was bigger than the biggest 
of the domes on your seraglio, O most Munificent 
of Caliphs. This terrible fowl had no head that 
we could perceive, but was fashioned entirely of 
belly, which was of a prodigious fatness and 
roundness, of a soft- looking substance, smooth, 
shining, and striped with various coloms. 

“‘In its talons, the monster was bearing away 
to his eyrie in the heavens, a house from which 
it had knocked off the roof, and in the interior of 
which we distinctly saw human beings, who, be- 
yond doubt, were in a state of frightful despair at 
the horrible fate which awaited them. 

“‘We shouted with all our might, in the hope 
of frightening the bird into letting go of its prey; 
but it merely gave a snort or puff, as if of rage, and 
1 The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. 


350 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


then let fall upon our heads a heavy sack which 
proved to be filled with sand! * ” 

“Stuff!” said the King. 

“‘We left this country, and, after some time, 
found ourselves in a wonderful place indeed, 
which, I was informed by the man-animal, was 
his own native land, inhabited by things of his 
own species. This elevated the man-animal very 
much in my esteem. And in fact, I now began to 
feel ashamed of the contemptuous familiarity 
with which I had treated him; for I found that 
the man-animals in general were a nation of the 
most powerful magicians. 

“‘Among them were domesticated several 
animals of very singular kinds. For example, 
there was a huge horse whose bones were iron and 
whose blood was boiling water. In place of corn, 
he had black stones for his usual food. And yet, 
in spite of so hard a diet, he was so strong and 
swift that he would drag a load more weighty 
than the grandest temple in this city, at a rate 
surpassing that of the flight of most birds.’ ” 
“Twattle!” said the King. 

“‘In this same country a wonderful conjurer 
fashioned for himself a mighty thing that was 
neither man nor beast, but which had brains of 
lead, intermixed with a black matter like pitch, 
and fingers that it employed with such incredible 
speed and dexterity that it would have had no 


THOUSAND-AND-SECOND TALE 351 


trouble in writing out twenty thousand copies of 
the Koran in an hour. And this with so exquisite 
a precision, that in all the copies there should not 
be found one to vary from another by the breadth 
of the finest hair. 

“‘This thing was of prodigious strength, so 
that it erected or overthrew the mightiest empires 
at a breath. But its powers were exercised equally 
for evil and for good.’” 

“Ridiculous!” said the King. 

^ “‘Another of these magicians had cultivated 
his voice to so great an extent that he could have 
made himself heard from one end of the earth to 
the other. Another had so long an arm that he 
could sit down in Damascus and indite a letter 
at Bagdad — or indeed at any distance whatso- 
ever. Another commanded the lightning to come 
down to him out of the heavens, and it came at 
his call; and served him for a plaything when it 
came. 

“Preposterous!” said the King. 

“‘The wives and daughters of these incom- 
parably great and wise magi,’” continued Sche- 
herazade, without being in any manner disturbed 
by these frequent and most ungentlemanly in- 
terruptions on the part of her husband — “‘the 
wives and daughters of these eminent con- 
jurers are every thing that is accomplished and 
refined; and would be every thing that is interest- 


352 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


ing and beautiful, but for an unhappy fatality 
that besets them, and from which not even the 
miraculous powers of their husbands and fa- 
thers has, hitherto, been adequate to save them. 
Some fatalities come in certain shapes, and some 
in others — but this of which I speak, has come 
in the shape of a crotchet.’” 

“A what?” said the King. 

“‘A crotchet,’” said Scheherazade. “‘One of 
the evil genii who are perpetually upon the watch 
to inflict ill, has put it into the heads of these 
accomplished ladies that the thing which we 
describe as personal beauty, consists altogether 
in the protuberance of the region which lies not 
very far below the small of the back. 

“‘Perfection of loveliness, they say, is in the 
direct ratio of the extent of this hump. Having 
been long possessed of this idea, and bolsters 
being cheap in that country, the days have long 
gone by since it was possible to distinguish a 
woman from a dromedary — ^ 

“Stop!” said the King — “I can’t stand that, 
and I won’t. You have already given me a 
dreadful headache with your lies. The day, too, 
I perceive, is beginning to break. How long have 
we been married? — my conscience is getting to 
be troublesome again. And then that drome- 
dary touch — do you take me for a fool? Upon 

^ Refers to the days when women wore bustles. 


THE NOBLE SAVAGE 353 

the whole, you might as well get up and be 
throttled.” 

These words both grieved and astonished Sche- 
herazade; but, as she knew the King to be a man 
of scrupulous integrity, and quite unlikely to 
forfeit his word, she submitted to her fate with 
a good grace. She derived, however, great con- 
solation (during the tightening of the bowstring), 
from the reflection that much of the history 
remained still untold and that the petulance of 
her brute of a husband had reaped for him a most 
righteous reward, in depriving him of many 
inconceivable adventures. 

Edgar Allan Poe. 

THE NOBLE SAVAGE 

To come to the point at once, I beg to say that 
I have not the least belief in the Noble Savage. 
I consider him a prodigious nuisance, and an 
enormous superstition. 

His calling rum “fire-water” and me “a pale 
face” wholly fail to reconcile me to him. I don’t 
care what he calls me. I call him a savage, and I 
call a savage a something highly desirable to be 
civilized off the face of the earth. I think a mere 
gent (which I take to be the lowest form of 
civilisation), better than a howling, whistling, 
clucking, stamping, jumping, tearing savage. 


354 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


It is all one to me whether he sticks a fish-bone 
through his visage, or bits of trees through the 
lobes of his ears, or bird’s feathers in his head; 
whether he fiattens his hair between two boards, 
or spreads his nose over the breadth of his face, 
or drags his lower lip down by great weights, or 
blackens his teeth, or knocks them out, or paints 
one cheek red and the other blue, or tattoos him- 
self, or oils himself, or rubs his body with fat, or 
crimps it with knives. 

Yielding to whichsoever of these agreeable 
eccentricities, he is a savage, — cruel, false, 
thievish, murderous; addicted more or less to 
grease, entrails, and beastly customs; a wild 
animal with the questionable gift of boasting; a 
conceited, tiresome, bloodthirsty, monotonous 
humbug. 

Yet it is extraordinary to observe how some 
people will talk about him, as they talk about the 
good old times; how they will regret his dis- 
appearance in the course of this world’s develop- 
ment, from such and such lands where his absence 
is a blessed relief and an indispensable prepara- 
tion for the sowing of the very first seeds of any 
influence that can exalt humanity. 

Think of the Bushmen. Think of the two men 
and the two women who have been exhibited 
about England for some years. Are the majority 
of persons, — who remember the horrid little 


THE NOBLE SAVAGE 


355 


leader of that party in his festering bundle of 
hides, with his filth and his antipathy to water, 
and his straddled legs, and his odious eyes 
shaded by his brutal hand, and his cry of “ Qu-u- 
u-u-aaa!” (Bosjesman for something desperately 
insulting I have no doubt), — conscious of an 
affectionate yearning towards that noble savage? 

But let us see what the Noble Savage does in 
Zulu Kaffirland. The Noble Savage sets a king 
to reign over him, to whom he submits his life and 
limbs without a murmur or question, and whose 
whole life is passed chin deep in a lake of blood; 
but who, after killing incessantly, is in his turn 
killed by his relations and friends, the moment a 
grey hair appears on his head. 

All the Noble Savage’s wars with his fellow- 
savages (and he takes no pleasure in anything 
else) are wars of extermination — which is the 
best thing I know of him, and the most comfort- 
able to my mind when I look at him. He has no 
moral feelings of any kind, sort, or description; 
and his “mission” may be summed up as simply 
diabolical. 

The ceremonies with which he faintly diversi- 
fies his life, are of course of a kindred nature. 
If he wants a wife, he appears before the kennel 
of the gentleman whom he has selected for his 
father-in-law, attended by a party of male 
friends of a very strong flavour, who screech and 


356 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


whistle and stamp an offer of so many cows for 
the young lady’s hand. 

The chosen father-in-law — also supported 
by a high-flavoured party of male friends, — 
screeches, whistles, and yells (being seated on the 
ground, he can’t stamp), that there never was 
such a daughter in the market as his daughter, 
and that he must have six more cows. 

The son-in-law and his select circle of backers, 
screech, whistle, stamp, and yell in reply that 
they will give three more cows. The father-in- 
law ( an old deluder, overpaid at the beginning) 
accepts four, and rises to bind the bargain. 

The whole party, the young lady included, then 
falling into epileptic convulsions, and screeching, 
whistling, stamping, and yelling together, — and 
nobody taking any notice of the young lady 
(whose charms are not to be thought of without a 
shudder), — the Noble Savage is considered 
married, and his friends make demoniacal leaps 
at him by way of congratulation. 

When the Noble Savage finds himself a little 
unwell, and mentions the circumstance to his 
friends, it is immediately perceived that he is 
under the infiuence of witchcraft. A learned per- 
sonage called an Imyanger or Witch Doctor, is 
immediately sent for to Nooker the Umtargartie, 
or smell out the Witch. 

The male inhabitants of the kraal being seated 


THE NOBLE SAVAGE 


357 


on the ground, the learned doctor, got up like a 
grizzly bear, appears, and administers a dance of 
a most terrific nature, during the exhibition of 
which remedy he incessantly gnashes his teeth, 
and howls: — 

“I am the original physician to Nooker the 
Umtargartie! Yow yow yow! Till till till! All 
other Umtargarties are feigned Umtargarties. 
Boroo boroo ! But I perceive here a genuine and 
real Umtargartie. Hoosh hoosh hoosh! in whose 
blood, I, the original Imy anger and Nookerer, 
Blizzerum boo! will wash these bear’s claws of 
mine. O yow yow yow!” 

All this time the learned physician is looking 
out among the attentive faces for some unfor- 
tunate man who owes him a cow, or who has 
given him any small offence, or against whom 
without offence he has conceived a spite. Him 
he never fails to Nooker as the Umtargartie, and 
he is instantly killed. In the absence of such an 
individual, the usual practice is to Nooker the 
quietest and most gentlemanly person in com- 
pany. But the Nookering is invariably followed 
on the spot by the butchering. 

Some of the Noble Savages in whom Mr. 
Catlin was so strongly interested, and the di- 
minution of whose numbers by rum and smallpox 
greatly affected him, had a custom not unlike this, 
though much more appalling and disgusting in its 
odious details. 


858 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


The women being at work in the fields, hoeing 
the Indian corn, and the Noble Savage being 
asleep in the shade, the Chief has sometimes the 
condescension to come forth, and lighten the 
labour by looking at it. 

On these occasions he seats himself in his own 
savage chair, and is attended by his shield- 
bearer, who holds over his head a shield of cow- 
hide, — in shape like an immense mussel shell. 
But lest the great man should forget his greatness 
in the contemplation of the humble works of 
agriculture, there suddenly rushes in a poet, called 
a Praiser. This literary gentleman wears a 
leopard’s head over his own, and a dress of tigers’ 
tails, and he incontinently strikes up the Chief’s 
praises, plunging and tearing all the while. There 
is a frantic wickedness in this brute’s manner of 
worrying the air, and gnashing out: — 

“Oh! what a delightful Chief he is! Oh! what a 
delicious quantity of blood he sheds! Oh! how ma- 
jestically he laps it up! Oh! how charmingly cruel 
he is! Oh! how he tears the flesh of his enemies 
and crunches the bones! Oh! how like the tiger 
and the leopard and the wolf and the bear he is! 
Oh! row, row, row, row, how fond I am of him!” 
which might tempt the Society of Friends to 
charge at a hand-gallop into the Swartz-Kop 
location and exterminate the whole kraal. 

When war is afoot among the Noble Savages, — 


THE NOBLE SAVAGE 


359 


which is always, — the Chief holds a council to 
ascertain whether it is the opinion of his brothers 
and friends in general that the enemy shall be 
exterminated. After the performance of the war- 
song, the Chief makes a speech to his brothers and 
friends, arranged in single file. No particular order 
is observed during the delivery of this address, 
but every gentleman who finds himself excited by 
the subject, darts from the rank and tramples out 
the life, or crushes the skull, or smashes the face, 
or scoops out the eyes, or breaks the limbs, or 
performs a whirlwind of atrocities on the body of 
an imaginary enemy. 

In all these ceremonies, the Noble Savage holds 
forth to the uttermost possible extent about him- 
self, from which (to turn him to some civilized 
account), we may learn, I think, that as egotism 
is one of the most offensive and contemptible 
littlenesses a civilized man can exhibit, so it is 
really incompatible with the interchange of ideas; 
inasmuch as if we all talked about ourselves 
we should soon have no listeners, and must be 
all yelling and screeching at once on our own 
separate accounts, making society hideous. 

It is my opinion that if we retained in us any- 
thing of the Noble Savage, we could not get rid 
of it too soon. 


Chables Dickens. 


360 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


THE VALOROUS ADVENTURES OF SOME 
DUTCH SETTLERS 

I 

THEY SETTLE THE NEW WORLD 

It was some three or four years after the return 
of the immortal Hendrick that a crew of honest. 
Low Dutch colonists set sail from the city of 
Amsterdam for the shores of America. The ship 
in which these illustrious adventurers set sail was 
called the Goede Vrouw, or good woman, in com- 
pliment to the wife of the President of the West 
India Company, who was allowed by everybody 
(except her husband) to be a sweet-tempered 
lady, — when not in liquor. 

It was in truth a most gallant vessel, of the most 
improved Dutch construction, and made by the 
ablest ship-carpenters of Amsterdam. It was full 
in the bows, with a pair of enormous catheads, 
a copper bottom, and, withal, a most prodigious 
poop. The architect did erect for a head a goodly 
image of St. Nicholas, equipped with a low broad- 
brimmed hat, a huge pair of Flemish trunk-hose, 
and a pipe that reached to the end of the bow- 
sprit. 

Thus gallantly furnished, the staunch ship 
floated sideways, like a majestic goose, out of 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


361 


the harbour of the great city of Amsterdam, and 
all the bells, that were not otherwise engaged, 
rang a triple bobmajor on the joyful occasion. 

Being under the especial care of the ever- 
revered St. Nicholas, the Goede Vrouw seemed to 
be endowed with qualities unknown to common 
vessels. Thus she made as much lee-way as head- 
way, could get along very nearly as fast with the 
wind a-head, as when it was a-poop, and was 
particularly great in a calm; in consequence of 
which singular advantages she made out to ac- 
complish her voyage in a very few months, and 
came to anchor at the mouth of the Hudson, a 
little to the east of Gibbet Island. 

Here lifting up their eyes, they beheld, on 
what is at present called the Jersey shore, a small 
Indian village, pleasantly embowered in a grove 
of spreading elms, and the natives all collected 
on the beach, gazing in stupid admiration at the 
Goede Vrouw. 

A boat was immediately despatched to enter 
into a treaty with them, and approaching the 
shore, hailed them through a trumpet in the most 
friendly terms; but so horribly confounded were 
these poor savages at the tremendous and un- 
couth sound of the Low Dutch language, that 
they one and all took to their heels, and scamp- 
ered over the Bergen hills; nor did they stop until 
they had buried themselves head and ears in the 


362 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


marshes on the other side, where they all miser- 
ably perished to a man. And their bones being 
collected and decently covered, formed that sin- 
gular mound called Rattlesnake Hill, which rises 
out of the centre of the salt marshes, a little to 
the east of the Newark Causeway. 

Animated by this unlooked-for victory, our 
valiant heroes sprang ashore in triumph, took 
possession of the soil as conquerors, and march- 
ing fearlessly forward, carried the village of 
Communipaw by storm, notwithstanding that it 
was vigorously defended by some half a score of 
old squaws and papooses. 

On looking about them, they were so trans- 
ported with the excellencies of the place, that they 
had very little doubt the blessed St. Nicholas had 
guided them thither, as the very spot whereon to 
settle their colony. Accordingly they descended 
from the Goede Vrouw, men, women and children, 
in goodly groups, as did the animals of yore from 
the ark, and formed themselves into a thriving 
settlement, which they called by the Indian name 
Communipaw, — the humble place which was the 
egg from whence was hatched the mighty city of 
New York. 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


363 


II 

FUR-TRADING 

A brisk trade for 'furs was soon opened with 
the neighbouring Indians. The Dutch traders 
were scrupulously honest in their dealings, and 
purchased by weight, establishing it as an inva- 
riable table of avoirdupois, that the hand of a 
Dutchman weighed one pound, and his foot two 
pounds. 

It is true, the simple Indians were often puzzled 
by the great disproportion between weight and 
bulk; for let them place a bundle of furs never so 
large in one scale, and a Dutchman put his hand 
or foot in the other, the bundle was sme to kick 
the beam, — never was a package of furs known 
to weigh more than two pounds in the market of 
Communipaw! 

This is a singular fact, — but I have it direct 
from my great, great-grandfather, who had risen 
to considerable importance in the colony, being 
promoted to the office of weigh-master on account 
of the uncommon heaviness of his foot. 

III 

A GREAT DEAL OF SMOKE 

’The Dutch possessions in this part of the 
globe began now to assume a very thriving 
appearance, and were comprehended under the 


364 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


general title of New Netherlands, on account of 
their great resemblance to the Dutch Nether- 
lands, — which indeed was truly remarkable, 
excepting that the former were rugged and 
mountainous, and the latter level and marshy. 

About this time the tranquillity of the Dutch 
colonists was doomed to sujffer a temporary in- 
terruption. In 1614 Captain Sir Samuel Argal, 
sailing under a commission from Dale, Governor 
of Virginia, visited the Dutch settlements on 
Hudson River, and demanded their submission 
to the English crown and Virginian dominion. To 
this arrogant demand, as they were in no condi- 
tion to resist it, they submitted for the time like 
discreet and reasonable men. 

It does not appear that the valiant Argal mo- 
lested the settlement of Communipaw. On the 
contrary, when his vessel first hove in sight, the 
worthy burghers were seized with such a panic 
that they fell to smoking their pipes with aston- 
ishing vehemence, insomuch that they quickly 
raised a cloud, which combining with the sur- 
rounding woods and marshes completely envel- 
oped and concealed their beloved village, so that 
the terrible Captain Argal passed on, totally un- 
suspicious that a sturdy little Dutch settlement 
lay snugly couched in the mud under cover of all 
this pestilent vapour. 

In commemoration of this fortunate escape. 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


S65 


the worthy inhabitants have continued to smoke, 
almost without intermission, unto this very day: 
which is said to be the cause of the remarkable 
fog which often hangs over Communipaw of a 
clear afternoon. 

Upon the departure of the enemy, the worthy 
hurghers took full six months to recover their 
wind, and get over the consternation into which 
they had been thrown. They then called a coun- 
cil of safety to smoke over the state of the prov- 
ince. 

At this council presided Oloffe Van Kortlandt, 
a personage who was held in great reverence 
among the sages of Communipaw, for the variety 
and darkness of his knowledge. Never did any- 
thing extraordinary happen at Communipaw, 
but he declared that he had previously dreamt it. 
As yet his dreams had turned to little personal 
profit. Still he carried a high head; if his sugar- 
loaf hat was rather the worse for wear, he set it 
off with a taller cock’s tail; and if his shirt was 
none of the cleanest, he puffed it 4ut the more at 
the bosom. 

The worthy Van Kortlandt, in the council in 
question, urged the policy of emerging from the 
swamps of Communipaw, and seeking some more 
eligible site for the seat of empire. Such he said 
was the advice of the good St. Nicholas, who had 
appeared to him in a dream the night before; and 


866 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


whom he had known by his broad hat, his long 
pipe, and the resemblance which he bore to the 
figure on the bow of the Goede Vrouw. 

The honest burghers one and all agreed that an 
expedition should be forthwith fitted out to go on 
a voyage of discovery in quest of a new seat of 
empire. This perilous enterprise was to be con- 
ducted by Oloffe himself. 

IV 

HELL-GATE 

No sooner did the first rays of cheerful Phoebus 
dart into the windows of Communipaw, than 
the little settlement was all in motion. Forth 
issued from his castle the sage Van Kortlandt, 
and seizing a conch-shell, blew a far-resounding 
blast that soon summoned all his lusty followers. 
Then did they trudge resolutely down to the 
water-side, escorted by a multitude of relative? 
and friends. The good Oloffe bestowed his forces 
in a squadron of three canoes, and hoisted his flag 
on board a little round Dutch boat, shaped not 
unlike a tub, which had formerly been the jolly- 
boat of the Goede Vrouw, 

The voyagers cheerily urged their course across 
the crystal bosom of the bay and soon left behind 
them the green shores of Communipaw. 

Just about this time a shoal of jolly porpoises 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


367 


came rolling and tumbling by, turning up their 
sleek sides to the sun, and spouting up the briny 
element in sparkling showers. No sooner did the 
sage Oloffe mark this, than he was greatly re- 
joiced. “This,” exclaimed he, “if I mistake not, 
augurs well, — the porpoise is a fat, well-condi- 
tioned fish, — a burgomaster among fishes, — his 
looks betoken ease, plenty, and prosperity, — I 
greatly admire this round, fat fish, and doubt not 
but this is a happy omen of the success of our 
undertaking.” So saying he directed his squadron 
to steer in the track of these alderman fishes. 

Turning therefore directly to the left, they 
swept up the strait vulgarly called East River. 
And here the rapid tide that courses through this 
strait, seizing on the gallant tub in which Commo- 
dore Van Kortlandt had embarked, hurried it for- 
ward with such velocity that the good commodore 
was more than ever convinced that they were in 
the hands of some supernatural power, and that 
the jolly porpoises were towing them to some fair 
haven that was to fulfill all their wishes and 
expectations. 

As the day proceeded they skirted the coast of 
Long Island, and the shores of the fair island of 
Manna-hata, now tossing in the turbulent tide, 
now gliding in silent wonder through new and 
unknown scenes. Toward evening the gallant 
squadron of Communipaw swept along to a deep 


368 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


bay, or rather creek, gracefully receding between 
shores fringed with forests. 

Just before them the grand course of the stream, 
making a sudden bend, wound among embowered 
promontories and shores of emerald verdure, that 
seemed to melt into the wave. A character of 
gentleness and mild fertility prevailed around. 
The sun had just descended, and the thin haze 
of twilight, like a transparent veil, heightened 
the charms which it half concealed. 

Ah! witching scenes of foul delusion! Ah! hap- 
less voyagers! The worthies of Communipaw, 
little mistrusting the guileful scenes before them, 
drifted quietly on, until they were aroused by 
an uncommon tossing and agitation of their 
vessels. For now the late dimpling current began 
to brawl around them, and the waves to boil and 
foam with horrific fury. 

Awakened as if from a dream, the astonished 
Oloffe bawled aloud to put about, but his words 
were lost amid the roaring of the waters. And 
now ensued a scene of direful consternation, — 
at one time they were borne with dreadful ve- 
locity among tumultuous breakers; at another 
hurried down boisterous rapids. Now they were 
nearly dashed upon the ‘‘Hen and Chickens” 
(infamous rocks! More voracious than Scylla 
and her whelps!), and anon they seemed sinking 
into yawning gulfs, that threatened to entomb 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


369 


them beneath the waves. All the elements 
combined to produce a hideous confusion. The 
waters raged, — the winds howled, — and as 
they were hurried along, several of the astonished 
mariners beheld the rocks and trees of the neigh- 
bouring shores driving through the air! 

At length the mighty tub of Commodore Van 
Kortlandt was drawn into the vortex of that 
tremendous whirlpool, called the “Pot,” where it 
was whirled about in giddy mazes, until the senses 
of the good commander and his crew were over- 
powered by the horror of the scene and the 
strangeness of the revolution. 

As to the commodore and his crew, when they 
came to their senses, they found themselves 
stranded on the Long Island shore. The worthy 
commodore, indeed, used to relate many and 
wonderful stories of his adventures in this time 
of peril; how he saw spectres flying in the air, and 
heard the yelling of hobgoblins, and put his 
hand into the “Pot” when they were whirled 
round, and found the water scalding hot, and 
beheld several uncouth-looking beings seated on 
rocks and skimming it with huge ladles. But 
particularly he declared, with great exultation, 
that he saw the losel porpoises, which had be- 
trayed them into this peril, some broiling on the 
“Gridiron” and others hissing in the “Frying 
Pan!” 


370 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


It is certain, however, that to the accounts of 
Oloffe and his followers may be traced the various 
traditions handed down of this marvellous strait, 
— as how the devil has been seen there, sitting 
astride of the “Hog’s Back” and playing on the 
fiddle, — how he broils fish there before a storm; 
and many other stories. 

In consequence of all these terrific circum- 
stances the commodore gave this pass the name 
of Helle-gat” or as it has been interpreted Hell- 
Gate,'^ which it continues to bear at the present 
day. 

V 

THE SAGE OLOFFE DREAMED A DREAM 

The darkness of night had closed upon this 
disastrous day, and a doleful night was it to the 
shipwrecked adventurers, whose ears were in- 
cessantly assailed with the raging of the elements 
and the howling of the hobgoblins that infested 
this perfidious strait. But when the morning 
dawned, the horrors of the preceding evening had 
passed away; rapids, breakers, and whirlpools had 
disappeared; the stream again ran smooth and 
dimpling, and, having changed its tide, rolled 
gently back, towards the quarter where lay their 
much-regretted home. 

The woe-begone heroes of Communipaw eyed 
each other with rueful countenances; their squad- 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


371 


ron had been totally dispersed by the late disas- 
ter. Oloffe with his remaining followers once more 
committed themselves, with fear and trembling, 
to the briny elements, and steered their course 
back again through the scenes of their yesterday’s 
voyage, determined no longer to roam in search 
of distant sites. 

Scarce, however, had they gained a view of 
Communipaw, when they were encountered by 
an obstinate eddy, which opposed their home- 
ward voyage. Weary and dispirited as they were, 
they yet tugged a feeble oar against the stream; 
until, as if to settle the strife, half a score of po- 
tent billows rolled the tub of Commodore Van 
Kortlandt high and dry on the long point of an 
island which divided the bosom of the bay. 

Oloffe Van Kortlandt was a devout trencher- 
man. Every repast was a kind of religious rite 
with him; and his first thought, on finding him- 
self once more on dry ground, was how he should 
contrive to celebrate his wonderful escape from 
Hell-Gate and all its horrors, by a solemn ban- 
quet. 

The stores which had been provided for the 
voyage by the good housewives of Communipaw 
were nearly exhausted, but, in casting his eyes 
about, the Commodore beheld that the shore 
abounded with oysters. A great store of these 
was instantly collected; a fire was made at the 


872 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


foot of a tree; all hands fell to roasting and broil- 
ing and stewing and frying, and a sumptuous re- 
past was soon set forth. 

The worthy Van Kortlandt deemed it incum- 
bent on him to eat profoundly for the public good. 
In proportion as he filled himself to the very brim 
with the dainty viands before him, did the heart 
of this excellent burgher rise up towards his 
throat, until he seemed crammed and almost 
choked with good eating and good nature. 

Everything around him seemed excellent and 
delightful; and, laying his hands on each side of 
his capacious periphery, and rolling his half- 
closed eyes around on the beautiful diversity of 
land and water before him, he exclaimed in a fat, 
half-smothered voice: “What a charming pros- 
pect!’’ 

The words died away in his throat — he seemed 
to ponder on the fair scene for a moment — his 
eyelids heavily closed over their orbs — his head 
drooped upon his bosom — he slowly sunk upon 
the green turf, and a deep sleep stole gradually 
upon him. And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream. 

And lo! the good St. Nicholas came riding over 
the tops of the trees, in that selfsame wagon 
wherein he brings his yearly presents to children; 
and he descended hard by where the heroes of 
Communipaw had made their late repast. 

And he lit his pipe by the fire, and sat himself 


DUTCH SETTLERS 


873 


down and smoked. And as lie smoked, the smoke 
from his pipe ascended into the air, and spread 
like a cloud overhead. And Oloffe bethought him, 
and he hastened and climbed up to the top of 
one of the tallest trees, and saw that the smoke 
spread over a great extent of country, — and as 
he considered it more attentively, he fancied that 
the great volume of smoke assumed a variety of 
marvellous forms where in dim obscurity he saw 
shadowed out palaces, and domes, and lofty 
spires, all of which lasted but a moment, and 
then faded away, until the whole rolled off, and 
nothing but the green woods were left. 

And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, 
he twisted it in his hatband and laying his finger 
beside his nose, gave the astonished Van Kort- 
landt a very significant wink, then mounting 
his wagon, he returned over the tree-tops and 
disappeared. 

And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep 
greatly instructed, and he aroused his companions, 
and related to them his dream, and interpreted 
it that it was the will of St. Nicholas that they 
should settle down and build the city here. And 
that the smoke of the pipe was a type how vast 
should be the extent of the city; inasmuch as the 
volumes of its smoke would spread over a wide 
extent of country. 

And they all with one voice assented to this 


874 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


interpretation excepting Mynheer Ten Broeck 
who declared the meaning to be that it would be 
a city wherein a little fire would occasion a great 
smoke. 

The object of their perilous expedition, there- 
fore, being thus happily accomplished, the voy- 
agers returned merrily to Communipaw, where 
they were received with great rejoicings. And 
here calling a general meeting of all the wise men 
and the dignitaries, they related the whole history 
of their voyage, and of the dream of Oloffe 
Van Kortlandt. 

And the people lifted up their voices and 
blessed the good St. Nicholas, and from that time 
forth the sage Van Kortlandt was held more in 
honour than ever for his great talent at dreaming, 
and was pronounced a most useful citizen and a 
right good man, — when he was asleep. 

It having been solemnly resolved that the seat 
of empire should be removed from the green 
shores of Communipaw, to the pleasant island of 
Manna-hata, everybody was anxious to embark 
under the standard of Oloffe the Dreamer, and 
to be among the first sharers of the promised land. 

A fleet of boats and canoes were piled up with 
all kinds of household articles; ponderous tables, 
chests of drawers resplendent with brass orna- 
ments, quaint corner-cupboards, beds and bed- 
steads, with any quantity of pots, kettles, frying- 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 375 

pans, and Dutch ovens. In each boat embarked 
a whole family, from the robustious burgher 
down to the cats and dogs and little negroes. In 
this way they set off across the mouth of the Hud- 
son, under the guidance of Oloffe the Dreamer, 
who hoisted his standard on the leading boat. 

Washington Irving, History of New York, 


SURPRISING ADVENTURES OP DON 
QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 

There once lived, in a certain village of La 
Mancha in Spain, a gentleman who did apply 
himself wholly to the reading of old books of 
knighthood. And that with such gusts and de- 
lights, as he neglected the exercise of hunting; 
yea and the very administration of his household 
affairs. 

He plunged himself so deeply in his reading of 
these books that he spent in the lecture of them 
whole days and nights. And in the end, through 
his little sleep and much reading, he dried up his 
brains in such sort as he lost wholly his judgment. 

His fantasy was filled with those things that 
he read, of enchantments, quarrels, battles, chal- 
lenges, wounds, wooings, loves, tempests, and 
other impossible follies. And these toys did so 
firmly possess his imagination with an infallible 
opinion that the dreamed inventions which he 


376 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


read were true, as he accounted no history in the 
world to be so certain and sincere as they were. 

Finally, his wit being wholly extinguished, he 
fell into one of the strangest conceits; to wit, it 
seemed unto him very needful, as well for his 
honour, as for the benefit of mankind, that he 
himself should become a knight-errant, and go 
throughout the world, with his horse and armour, 
to seek adventure, and practise in person all that 
he had read was done by knights of yore, reveng- 
ing of all kinds of injuries, and offering himself 
to dangers, which once happily achieved, might 
gain him eternal renown. 

He resolved to give himself a name worthy of 
so great a knight as himself, and in that thought 
he laboured eight days; and in conclusion called 
himself Don Quixote of La Mancha. Then he 
donned certain old armour that had belonged to 
his great-grandfather, mounted his old lean 
horse, Rozinante, and sallied forth into the world 
to seek adventure. 

With him rode as his squire, one Sancho Panza, 
a labourer, and an honest man, but one of very 
shallow wit. Don Quixote had said so much to 
him, had persuaded him so earnestly, and had 
made him so large promises, that the poor fellow 
determined to go away with the knight, and 
serve him as his squire. Don Quixote bade him to 
dispose himself willingly, for now and then such an 



DON QUIXOTE IN HIS LIP.KAUV AT LA MANCHA 








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DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 377 

adventure might present itself, that in as short 
space as one would take up a couple of straws, 
an island might be won, and Sancho be left as 
governor thereof. 

This same squire, Sancho Panza, did ride upon 
an ass. About the ass Don Quixote had stood 
a while pensive, calling to mind whether ever he 
had read that any knight-errant carried his squire 
assishly mounted; but he could not remember any 
authority for it. Yet, notwithstanding, he had re- 
solved that Sancho might bring his beast, intend- 
ing to dismount the first discourteous knight 
they met from his horse, and give it to his squire. 

Don Quixote bethought himself that now he 
wanted nothing but a lady on whom he might 
bestow his service and affection. For a knight- 
errant that is loveless resembles a tree that wants 
leaves and fruit, or a body without a soul. He 
bethought him of a damsel who dwelt in the next 
village to his manor, a young handsome wench 
with whom he had been some time in love, al- 
though she never knew or took notice thereof. 
Her he chose as the Lady of his thoughts, she 
being ignorant of it, and he called her Dulcinea 
of Toboso. 

Things being thus ordered, Don Quixote and 
his squire rode forth into the world, and had, 
with some good success, many ridiculous and 
rare adventures, as well as some that were dread- 


378 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


ful and never-imagined, — all worthy to be re- 
corded. All these adventures may be read in 
that strange book. The History of the Valorous 
and Witty Knight-Errant, Don Quixote of La 
Mancha. 

Herein will be related four of his adventures, 
to wit. The Dreadful and Never-Imagined Ad- 
venture of the Windmills; How Don Quixote 
Fought with Two Armies of Sheep; The High Ad- 
venture and Rich Winning of the Helmet of 
Mambrino; and The Adventure of the Lions. 

THE DREADFUL AND NEVER-IMAGINED ADVENTURE 
OF THE WINDMILLS 

The first day that Don Quixote and his squire, 
Sancho Panza, sallied forth to seek adventure, 
they travelled almost all day without encounter- 
ing anything worthy the recital, which made Don 
Quixote fret for anger. For he desired to en- 
counter presently some one upon whom he might 
make trial of his invincible strength. Riding thus, 
toward evening they discovered some thirty or 
forty windmills, that were in a field. And as soon 
as Don Quixote espied them he said to his 
squire: — 

“Fortune doth address our affairs better than 
we ourselves could desire. For behold there, 
friend Sancho Panza, how there appear thirty or 
forty monstrous giants, with whom I mean to 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 379 

fight, and deprive them of their lives, with whose 
spoils we will begin to be rich. For this is a good 
war, and a great service unto God, to take away 
so bad a seed from the face of the earth.” 

“What giants?” quoth Sancho Panza. 

“Those that thou seest there,” quoth his lord, 
“with the long arms. And some there are of that 
race whose arms are almost two leagues long.” 

“I pray you understand,” quoth Sancho 
Panza, “that those which appear there are no 
giants, but windmills. And that which seems in 
them to be arms, are their sails, that, swung 
about by the wind, do also make the mill 
go-” 

“It seems well,” quoth Don Quixote, “that 
thou art not yet acquainted with matter of 
adventures. They are giants. And, if thou beest 
afraid, go aside and pray, whilst I enter into cruel 
and unequal battle with them.” 

And, saying so, he spurred his horse Pozinante, 
without taking heed to his Squire Sancho’s cries, 
who called out that they were windmills that he 
did assault and no giants. But Don Quixote went 
so fully persuaded that they were giants that 
he neither heard his squire’s outcries, nor did dis- 
cern what the windmills really were, although he 
drew very near to them. 

Then he called out to them as loud as he 
could; — 


380 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


“Fly not, ye cowards and vile creatures! for 
it is only one knight that assaults you.” 

With this the wind increased, and the mill sails 
began to turn about; which Don Quixote espying, 
said : — 

“Although thou mo vest more arms than the 
giant Briareus, yet thou shalt stoop to me.” 

And, after saying this, and commending him- 
self most devoutly to his Lady Dulcinea, desiring 
her to succour him, he covered himself well with 
his buckler, and set his lance on his rest. Then he 
spurred on Rozinante and encountered with the 
first mill that was before him. As he struck his 
lance into the sail, the wind swung it about with 
such fury, that it broke his lance into shivers, 
carrying him and his horse after it, and finally 
tumbling him a good way off from it on the field 
in very evil plight. 

Sancho Panza repaired presently to succour 
him as fast as his ass could drive. And when he 
arrived, he found his lord not able to stir, he had 
gotten such a crush with Rozinante. 

“By my beard!” quoth Sancho, “did I not 
foretell unto you that you should look well what 
you did, for they were none other than windmills? 
Nor could any think otherwise, unless he had 
also windmills in his brains.” 

“Peace, Sancho,” quoth Don Quixote; “for 
matters of war are more subject than any other 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA S81 

thing to continual change; how much more, see- 
ing that some magician — such is the enmity he 
bears towards me — hath transformed these giants 
into mills to deprive me of the glory of the victory. 
But yet, in fine all his bad arts shall but little 
prevail against the goodness of my sword.” 

“God grant it as he may!” said Sancho Panza, 
and then he helped his master to arise; and pres- 
ently he mounted him on Rozinante, who was 
half shoulder-pitched by the rough encounter. 
And thus discoursing upon the adventure they 
followed on the way which guided towards a 
passage through the mountains. For there, as 
Don Quixote avouched, it was not possible but to 
find many adventures because it was a thorough- 
fare much frequented. 

HOW DON QUIXOTE FOUGHT WITH TWO AEMIES 
OF SHEEP 

One day Don Quixote and his squire while they 
rode perceived a great and thick dust to arise in 
the way wherein they travelled. Turning to 
Sancho, Don Quixote said, “This is, Sancho, the 
day wherein shall be manifest the good which 
fortune hath reserved for me. This is the day 
wherein the force of mine arm must be shown as 
much as in any other whatsoever; and in it I will 
do such feats as shall forever remain recorded in 
the books of fame. Dost thou see, Sancho, the 


382 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


dust which ariseth there? Know that it is caused 
by a mighty army and sundry and innumerable 
nations, which come marching there.” 

“If that be so,” quoth Sancho, “then must 
there be two armies; for on this other side is 
raised as great a dust.” 

Don Quixote turned back to behold it, and 
seeing it was so indeed, he was marvellous glad, 
thinking that they were doubtless two armies, 
which came to fight one with another in the midst 
of that spacious plain. 

The dust which he had seen, however, was 
raised by two great flocks of sheep, that came 
through the same field by two different ways, and 
could not be discerned, by reason of the dust, until 
they were very near. Yet Don Quixote did affirm 
that they were two armies so earnestly that 
Sancho believed it, and demanded of him, “Sir, 
what then shall we two do?” 

“What shall we do,” quoth Don Quixote, “but 
assist the needful and weaker side? For thou shalt 
know, Sancho, that he who comes towards us is 
the great Emperor Alifamfaron, lord of the great 
island of Trapobana; the other, who marcheth at 
our back, is his enemy, the King of the Gara- 
mantes, Pentapolin of the naked arm, so called 
because he still entereth in battle with his right 
arm naked.” 

“I pray you, good sir,” quoth Sancho, “to tell 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 383 

me why these two Princes hate one another so 
much?” 

“They are enemies,” replied Don Quixote, 
“because that this Alifamfaron is a furious pagan, 
and is enamoured of Pentapolin’s daughter, who 
is a very beautiful and gracious Princess, and, 
moreover, a Christian. Her father refuseth to 
give her to the pagan King, until first he abandon 
Mahomet’s false sect, and become a Christian 
Knight.” 

“By my beard,” quoth Sancho, “Pentapolin 
hath reason, and I will help him all that I 
may.” 

“By doing so,” quoth Don Quixote, “thou 
performest thy duty; for it is not requisite that 
one be a knight to enter into such battles.” 

“I do know that myself,” quoth Sancho, “very 
well ; but where shall we leave this ass in the mean- 
time, that we may be sure to find him again after 
the conflict? — For I think it is not the custom 
to enter into battle mounted on such a beast.” 

“It is true,” quoth Don Quixote; “that which 
thou mayest do is to leave him to his adventures, 
and care not whether he be lost or found; for we 
shall have so many horses, after coming out of 
this battle victors, that very Rozinante himself 
is in danger to be changed for another. But be 
attentive; for I mean to describe unto thee the 
principal knights of both the armies; and to the 


384 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


end thou mayest the better see and note all 
things, let us retire ourselves there to that little 
hillock, from whence both armies may easily be 
described.” 

They did so; and, standing on the top of a hill, 
from whence they might have seen both the 
flocks, Don Quixote, seeing in fancy that which he 
really did not see at all, began to say, with a loud 
voice: — 

“That knight which thou seest there with the 
yellow armour, who bears in his shield a lion, 
crowned, crouching at a damsel’s feet, is the 
valorous Laurcalio, lord of the silver bridge. The 
other, limbed like a giant, that standeth at his 
right hand, is the undaunted Brandabarbaray of 
Boliche, lord of the three Arabias, and comes 
armed with a serpent’s skin, bearing for his shield, 
as is reported, one of the gates of the temple 
which Samson overthrew to be revenged on his 
enemies. 

“But turn thine eyes to this other side, and 
thou shalt see first of all, and in the front of this 
other army, the ever victor and never vanquished 
Timonel of Carcajona, Prince of New Biscay, who 
comes armed with arms parted into blue, green, 
white, and yellow quarters, and bears in his 
shield, in a field of tawny, a cat of gold, with a 
letter that says Miau, which is the beginning of 
his lady’s name, which is, as the report runs, the 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 385 

peerless Miaulina, daughter of Duke Alfeniquen 
of Algarve.” 

And thus Don Quixote proceeded forward, 
naming many knights of the one and the other 
squadron, even as he had imagined them. And 
he attributed to each knight his arms, his colours, 
and mottoes, for he was suddenly borne away by 
the imagination of his wonderful distraction. 

Sancho Panza stood suspended at his master’s 
speech, and spoke not a word, but only would 
now and then turn his head, to see whether he 
could mark those knights and giants which his 
lord had named; and, by reason he could not 
discover any, he said : — 

“Sir, I give to the devil any man, giant, or 
knight, of all those you said did appear; at least 
I cannot discern them. Perhaps all is but en- 
chantment, like that of the ghosts of yester- 
night.” 

“How sayst thou so?” quoth Don Quixote. 
“Dost not thou hear the horses neigh, the trum- 
pets sound, and the noise of the drums?” 

“I hear nothing else,” said Sancho, “but the 
great bleating of many sheep.” 

And so it was, indeed; for by this time the two 
flocks did approach them very near. 

“The fear that thou conceivest, Sancho,” 
quoth Don Quixote, “maketh thee that thou canst 
neither hear nor see aright; for one of the effects 


386 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


of feax is to trouble the senses, and make things 
appear otherwise than they are. And, seeing thou 
fearest so much, retire thyself out of the way; for 
I alone am sufficient to give the victory to that 
army which I shall assist.” 

And, having ended his speech, he set spurs to 
Rozinante, and, setting his lance in the rest, he 
flung down from the hillock like a thunderbolt. 

Sancho cried to him as loud as he could, saying, 
“Return, good sir Don Quixote! for I vow unto 
God, that all those which you go to charge are 
but sheep and muttons; return, I say. Alas that 
ever I was born! what madness is this.f^ Look; for 
there is neither giant, nor knight, nor cats, nor 
arms, nor shields parted nor whole, nor pure 
azures nor devilish. What is it you do? wretch 
that I am!” 

For all this Don Quixote did not return, but 
rather rode, saying with a loud voice, “On, on, 
knights! all you that serve and march under the 
banners of the valorous Emperor Pentapolin of 
the naked arm; follow me, all of you, and you 
shall see how easily I will revenge him on his 
enemy, Alifamfaron of Trapobana.” 

And saying so, he entered into the midst of the 
flock of sheep, and began to lance them with such 
courage and fury as if he did in good earnest en- 
counter his mortal enemies. 

The shepherds that came with the flock cried 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 387 

to him to leave off; but, seeing their words took 
no effect, they unloosed their slings, and began to 
salute his pate with stones as great as one’s fist. 
But Don Quixote made no account of their stones, 
and did fiing up and down among the sheep, 
saying: — 

“Where art thou, proud Alifamfaron? where 
art thou? Come to me; for I am but one knight 
alone, who desires to prove my force with thee 
man to man, and deprive thee of thy life, in pain 
of the wrong thou dost to the valiant Pentapolin.” 

At that instant a stone gave him such a blow 
on one of his sides, as did bury two of his ribs in 
his body. He beholding himself so ill dight, did 
presently believe that he was either slain or 
sorely wounded. And, remembering himself of his 
oil-pot, which he thought to contain some magic 
healing liquor, set it to his mouth to drink. But 
ere he could take as much as he thought requisite 
to cure his hurts, there cometh another stone, 
which struck him so full upon the hand and oil- 
pot, as it broke it into pieces, and carried away 
with it besides three or four of his cheek teeth, and 
did moreover bruise very sorely two of his fingers. 

Such was the first and the second blow, as the 
poor knight was constrained to fall down off his 
horse. And the shepherds arriving, did verily 
believe they had slain him; and therefore, gath- 
ering their flocks together with all speed, and 


388 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


carrying away their dead muttons, which were 
more than seven, they went away without verify- 
ing the matter any further. 

Sancho remained all this while on the height, 
beholding his master’s follies, pulling the hairs of 
his beard for very despair; and he cursed the hour 
and the moment wherein he first knew him. But 
seeing him overthrown to the earth, and the 
shepherds fled away, he came down to him, and 
found him in very bad plight, yet had the knight 
not quite lost the use of his senses. 

“Sir Knight,” quoth Sancho, “did not I bid 
you return, and tell you that you went not to 
invade an army of men, but a flock of sheep 

“That thief, the magician who is mine adver- 
sary,” quoth Don Quixote, “can counterfeit and 
make men to seem such, or vanish away, as he 
pleaseth; for, Sancho, thou oughtest to know 
that it is a very easy thing for men of that kind to 
make us seem what they please; and this magician 
that persecuteth me, envying the glory which 
he saw I was like to acquire in this battle, hath 
converted the enemy’s squadrons into sheep. If 
thou wilt not believe me, Sancho, yet do one 
thing for my sake, that thou mayest remove thine 
error, and perceive the truth which I affirm. Ride 
ahead on thine ass, and follow the armies fair and 
softly aloof, and then thou shalt see that, as soon 
as they are parted any distance from hence, they 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 389 

will turn to their first form, and, leaving to be 
sheep, will become men, as right and straight 
as I painted to thee at first. But go not now, for 
I have need of thy help and assistance. I pray 
thee, give me thy hand, and feel how many cheek 
teeth, or others, I lack in this right side of the 
upper jaw.” 

Sancho put in his finger, and whilst he felt him, 
demanded, “How many cheek teeth were you 
accustomed to have on this side?” 

“Four,” quoth he, “besides the hindermost; 
all of them very whole and sound.” 

“See well what you say, sir,” quoth Sancho. 

“I say four,” quoth Don Quixote, “if they 
were not five; for I never in my life drew or lost 
any tooth.” 

“Well, then,” quoth Sancho, “you have in this 
lower part but two teeth and a half; and in the 
upper neither a half, nor any; for all there is as 
plain as the palm of my hand.” 

“Unfortunate I!” quoth Don Quixote, hearing 
the sorrowful news that his squire told him, “for 
I had rather lose one of my arms, so it were not 
that of my sword; for, Sancho, thou must know, 
that a mouth without cheek teeth is like a mill 
without a mill-stone; and a tooth is much more 
to be esteemed than a diamond. — But we 
knights-errant which profess the rigorous laws of 
arms are subject to all these disasters; wherefore. 


390 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


give the way, gentle friend; for I will follow thee 
what pace thou pleasest.” 

Talking thus they rode on their way where they 
thought they might find lodging, and about night- 
fall they perceived an inn near unto the highway 
wherein they travelled, which was as welcome a 
sight to Don Quixote as if he had seen a star that 
did guide him to the porch, if not to the palace, 
of his redemption. 

OF THE HIGH ADVENTURE AND RICH WINNING OF 
THE HELMET OF MAMBRINO 

The next morning as Don Quixote and his 
squire were riding over the plains it began to 
rain, and Sancho would fain have sought shelter 
in some near-by mill, but Don Quixote would in 
no wise come near one. But, turning his way on 
the right hand, he fell into a highway, as much 
beaten as that wherein they rode the day before. 

Within a while after, Don Quixote espied one 
a-horseback, that bore on his head something 
that glistered like gold. And scarce had he seen 
him, when he turned to Sancho, and said : — 

“Methinks, Sancho, that there’s no proverb 
that is not true; for they are all sentences taken 
out of experience itself, which is the universal 
mother of sciences; and especially that proverb 
that says: ‘Where one door is shut another is 
opened.’ I say this because, if fortune did shut 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 391 

yesterday the door that we searched, deceiving 
us in the adventure of the armies, it lays for us 
now wide open the door that may lead us to a 
better and more certain adventure, whereon, if I 
cannot make a good entry, the fall shall be mine. 
If I be not deceived, there comes one towards us 
that wears on his head the helmet of Mambrino, 
which I have made an oath to win.” 

“See well what you say, sir, and better what 
you do,” quoth Sancho; “for I would not wish 
that this were new shepherds to batter you.” 

“The devil take thee for a man!” replied Don 
Quixote; “what difference is there betwixt a 
helmet and shepherds.^” 

“I know not,” quoth Sancho, “but if I could 
speak as much now as I was wont, perhaps I 
would give you such reasons as you yourself 
should see how much you are deceived in that 
you speak.” 

“How may I be deceived in that I say, scrupu- 
lous traitor.^” demanded Don Quixote. “Tell me, 
seest thou not the knight which comes riding 
towards us on a dapple-grey horse, with a helmet 
of gold on his head.^” 

“That which I see and find out to be so,” 
answered Sancho, “is none other than a man on 
a grey ass like mine own, and brings on his head 
something that shines.” 

“Why, that is Mambrino’s helmet,” quoth Don 


S92 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Quixote. “Stand aside, and leave me alone with 
him. Thou shalt see how, without speech to cut 
off delays, I will conclude this adventure, and re- 
main with the helmet as mine own which I have 
so much desired.” 

“I will have care to stand off. But I turn again 
to say, that I pray God that it be a purchase of 
gold, and not flocks of sheep.” 

“I have already said unto thee not to make 
any more mention, no, not in thought, of sheep. 
For if thou dost,” said Don Quixote, “I vow, I 
say no more, that I will batter thy soul.” 

Here Sancho, fearing lest his master would 
accomplish the vow which he had thrown out as 
round as a bowl, held his peace. 

This, therefore, is the truth of the history 
of the helmet, horse, and knight, which Don 
Quixote saw. There were near this spot two vil- 
lages, the one so little as it had neither shop nor 
barber, but the greater was furnished with one. 
This barber did therefore serve the little village 
when they had any occasion, as it now befell. 
For which reason he came bringing with him a 
brazen basin. 

And as he travelled, it by chance began to rain, 
so he clapped his basin on his head to save his 
hat from staining, because it belike was a new one. 
And the basin being clean scoured, glistered half 
a league off. 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA S93 

He rode on a grey ass, as Sancho said, which 
Don Quixote mistook for a dapple-grey steed, and 
the barber for a knight, and the basin for a 
helmet of gold. For Don Quixote did, with all 
facility apply everything which he saw to his 
raving chivalry and ill-errant thoughts. 

And when he saw that the poor barber drew 
near, without settling himself to talk with him, 
he inrested his javelin low on the thigh, and ran 
with all the force Rozinante might, thinking to 
strike him through and through. And, drawing 
near unto him, without stopping his horse, he 
cried : — 

“Defend thyself, caitiff! or else render unto 
me willingly that which is my due by all rea- 
son.” 

The barber, who without fearing or surmising 
any such thing, saw that knight come suddenly 
upon him, had no other remedy, to avoid the 
blow of the lance, but to fall off his ass to the 
ground. And scarce had he touched the earth, 
when rising up again as light as a deer, he ran 
away so swiftly through the plain as the wind 
could scarce overtake him, leaving his basin 
behind him on the ground. 

Don Quixote rested content, and commanded 
Sancho to take up the helmet; who lifting it, 
said : — 

“The basin is a good one.” 


S94 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Then he gave it to his lord, who presently set 
it on his head, turning it about every way to see 
whether he could get the beaver. And seeing he 
could not find it, he said : — 

“The pagan for whom this famous helmet was 
first forged had doubtlessly a very great head. 
And that which grieves me most is that this 
helmet lacks the beaver.” 

When Sancho heard him call the basin a helmet, 
he could not contain his laughter; but presently 
remembering his master’s anger, he checked him- 
self in the midst. 

“Why dost thou laugh, Sancho?” demanded 
Don Quixote. 

“I laugh,” said he, “to think on the great head 
the pagan owner of this helmet had; for it is for 
all the world like a barber’s basin.” 

“Know, Sancho,” quoth Don Quixote, “that 
this enchanted helmet did fall, by some strange 
accident, into some one’s hands that knew not 
the worth thereof, who seeing it was of pure gold, 
without realizing what he did, melted the half, 
to profit himself therewithal. Then he made of 
the other half this, which seems a barber’s basin, 
as thou sayest. But be it what it list, to me who 
knows well what it is, its change makes no matter. 
For I will dress it in the first town where I shall 
find a smith. And in the meanwhile I will wear 
it as I may, for something is better than nothing; 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 395 

and more, seeing it may defend me from the blow 
of a stone.” 

“That’s true,” quoth Sancho, “if the stone be 
not thrown out of a sling, such as that of the battle 
of the two armies, when they blessed your wor- 
ship’s cheek teeth, and broke the bottle wherein 
you carried the most blessed healing potion.” 

“I do not much care for the loss of it, Sancho,” 
quoth Don Quixote; “for as thou knowest, I have 
the recipe in memory.” 

“So have I likewise,” quoth Sancho, — be- 
thinking him of the night he had been made ill by 
it,^ “but if ever I make it or taste it again in my 
life, I pray God that here may be mine end. And 
more, I never mean to thrust myself into any 
occasion wherein I should have need of it. For I 
mean, with all my five senses, to keep myself from 
hurting any, or being hurt. Of being once again 
tossed in a blanket,^ I say nothing; for such dis- 
graces can hardly be prevented. And if they befall, 
there is no other remedy but patience, and to lift 
up the shoulders, keep in the breath, shut the 
eyes, and suffer one’s self to be borne where for- 
tune and the blanket pleaseth.” 

“Thou art a bad Christian, Sancho,” quoth 
Don Quixote, hearing him say so; “for thou never 
forgettest the injuries that are once done thee. 

1 For an account of these adventures read The History of the Valor^ 
ous and Witty KnighirErrant, Don Quixote of La Mancha. 


396 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


Know that it is the duty of noble and generous 
minds not to make any account of little things.” 

“Then,” said Sancho, “let it pass for a jest. 
But, leaving this apart, what shall we do with 
this dapple-grey steed, that looks so like a grey 
ass.^ this beast which that barber whom you over- 
threw left behind? For I think the man is minded 
not to come back for him again, since he laid 
feet on the dust and made haste. But, by my 
beard, the grey beast is a good one!” 

“I am not accustomed,” quoth Don Quixote, 
“to ransack and spoil those whom I overcome. 
Nor is it the practice of chivalry to take their 
horses and let them go afoot; unless it befall the 
victor to lose in the conflict his own; for in such 
a case it is lawful to take that of the vanquished 
as won in fair war. So, Sancho, leave that horse, 
or ass, or what else thou pleasest to call it; for 
when his owner sees us departed, he will return 
again for it.” 

“Truly,” said Sancho, “the laws of knighthood 
are strait, since they extend not themselves to 
license the exchange of one ass for another. And 
I would know whether they permit at least to 
exchange the one harness for another? ” 

“In that I am not very sure,” quoth Don 
Quixote; “and as a case of doubt (until I be 
better informed), I say that thou exchange them, 
if by chance thy need be extreme.” 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 897 

“So extreme,” quoth Sancho, “that if they 
were for mine own very person, I could not need 
them more.” 

And presently, enabled by his master’s license, 
he made the change, and set forth his beast with 
the harness of the barber’s ass. 

This being done, they broke their fast, and 
drank from a near-by stream. And, having by 
their repast cut away all melancholy, they fol- 
lowed on the way which Rozinante pleased to 
lead them, who was the depository of his mas- 
ter’s will, and also of the ass’s, who followed him 
always wheresoever he went, in good amity and 
company. Thus they returned to the highway, 
wherein they travelled at random, seeking new 
adventures. 

THE ADVENTURE OF THE LIONS 

Don Quixote went on his journey with joy, 
content, and gladness, imagining that for the late 
victory he was the most valiant knight of that age 
in the world. He made account that all adven- 
tures that should henceforward befall him would 
be brought to a happy and prosperous end. He 
cared not now for any enchantments or enchant- 
ers. He forgot the innumerable bangs that in the 
prosecution of his chivalry had been given him, 
the stones cast that struck out half his teeth, the 
falls from his horse, and other misadventures. 


398 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


While he thus rode with Sancho, altogether 
busied in these imaginations, one that came their 
way overtook them. He rode upon a flea-bitten 
mare, and was decked out in a riding-coat of fine 
green cloth, welted with tawny velvet. Coming 
near he saluted them courteously, and, spurring 
his mare, would have ridden on; but Don Quixote 
said to him : — 

“Gallant, if you go our way, and your haste 
be not great, I should take it for a favour that we 
might ride together.” 

“Truly, sir,” said he with the green coat, “I 
would gladly ride with you,” and he held in his 
reins, wondering at Don Quixote’s countenance 
and posture. For the knight was without his 
helmet, which Sancho was carrying in a cloak- 
bag at the pommel of Dapple’s pack-saddle. And 
if he in the green did much look at Don Quixote, 
Don Quixote did much more eye him, taking him 
to be a man of worth. 

They continued on their way together, con- 
versing much, Don Quixote telling of his adven- 
tures and knight-errantry. The gentleman greatly 
admired Don Quixote’s discourse, but Sancho, 
who was weary of it, went into a field to beg a 
little milk of some shepherds not far off, curing of 
their sheep. 

Then Don Quixote, lifting up suddenly his 
eyes, saw that in the way toward them there 


.DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 399 

came a cart decked with flags of the king’s colours; 
and, taking it to be some rare adventure, he 
called to Sancho for his helmet. Sancho, hearing 
himself called on, left the shepherds; and spurred 
Dapple apace, and came to his master, to whom 
a rash and stupendous adventure happened. 

It came about in this manner, — Sancho was 
buying curds from the shepherds, and when he 
was called by his master he knew not what to do 
with these same curds, or how to bestow them 
without losing them, for he had paid for them. 
So he bethought himself and clapped them into 
his master’s helmet, and came quickly to him. 

“Give me, friend, the helmet,” quoth Don 
Quixote, “for what I see yonder is an adventure 
which will force me to take arms.” 

He of the green coat, hearing this, turned his 
eyes every way, and saw nothing but a cart that 
came toward them, and so he told Don Quixote. 
But the knight said, “I know by experience that 
I have enemies visible and invisible, and I know 
not when, nor where, nor in what shape they will 
set upon me.” 

Then turning to Sancho he again demanded his 
helmet. Sancho, wanting leisure to take the curds 
out, was forced to give it him as it was. Don 
Quixote took it, and not perceiving what was in 
it, clapped it suddenly upon his head. And, as 
the curds were squeezed and thrust together, the 


400 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


whey began to run down Don Quixote’s face and 
beard. At this he was in such a fright that he 
cried out to Sancho : — 

“What ails me, Sancho.^ For methinks my 
skull is softened, or my brains melt, or that I 
sweat from top to toe. But if it be sweat, I assure 
thee it is not for fear. I believe certainly that 
I am like to have a terrible adventure of this. 
Give me something, if thou hast it, to wipe on, 
for this abundance of sweat blinds me.” Sancho 
was silent, and gave him a cloth, and thanked 
God that his master fell not into the business. 

Then Don Quixote wiped his face, and took off 
his helmet to see what it was that, as he thought, 
did benumb his head. And, seeing those white 
splashes in his helmet, he put them to his nose, 
and, smelling them said: — 

“By my mistress Dulcinea of Toboso’s life, 
they are curds that thou hast brought me here, 
thou base traitor and unmannerly squire!” 

To this Sancho very cunningly, and with a 
great deal of pause answered, “By my faith, sir, 
I have my enchanters too that persecute me 
as a creature and part of you, and I warrant have 
put that filth there to stir you up to anger, and to 
make you bang my sides as you used to do. Well, 
I hope this time they have lost their labour; for 
I trust in my master’s discretion, that he will 
consider that I have neither curds, nor milk, nor 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 401 

any such thing. For, if I had, I had rather put 
them in my stomach than in the helmet.” 

“All this may be,” said Don Quixote. 

The gentleman observed all, and wondered, 
especially when Don Quixote, after he had wiped 
his head, face, and beard, clapped the helmet on 
again. Then he settled himseK well in his stirrups, 
searched for his sword, grasped his lance, and 
cried out: — 

“Now come what will, for here I am with a 
courage to meet Satan himself in person.” 

By this the cart with the flags drew near, in 
which there came no man but the carter with his 
mules, and another man upon the foremost mule. 
Don Quixote put himself forward and asked : — 

“Whither go ye, my masters? what cart is 
this? what do you carry? and what colours be 
these?” 

To this the carter answered, “The cart is mine, 
but inside are two fierce lions caged up, which 
are being sent to the King as a present.” 

“Are the lions big?” asked Don Quixote. 

“So big,” said the other man, “that there 
never came bigger out of Africa into Spain. And 
I am their keeper. I have carried others, but 
none so big. They are male and female; the male 
is in the first grate, the female in the hindermost. 
And now they are hungry, for they have not 
eaten to-day, and therefore I pray, sir, give us 


402 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


way, for we must needs come quickly to a place 
where we may feed them.” 

To this quoth Don Quixote, smiling a little, 
“What are your lion whelps to me.'^ I vow that 
he who sends them this way shall know whether 
I be one that am afraid of lions. Alight, honest 
fellow, and, if you be the keeper, open their cages, 
and let me your beasts forth; for I’ll make ’em 
know, in the midst of this field, who Don Quixote 
is, in spite of those enchanters that sent them.” 

“Fie! fie!” said the gentleman in green at this 
instant to himself, “our knight shows very well 
what he is; the curds have softened his skull and 
ripened his brains.” 

By this Sancho came to the gentleman and said, 
“For God’s love, handle the matter so, sir, that 
my master meddle not with these lions; for if he 
do they will worry us all.” 

“Is your master so mad,” asked the gentleman, 
“that you fear or believe he will fight with wild 
beasts 

“He is not mad,” said Sancho, “but hardy.” 

“I’ll make him otherwise,” said the gentleman; 
and, coming to Don Quixote, who was urging the 
keeper to open the cages, he said, “Sir knight, 
knights-errant ought to undertake adventures 
that may give a likelihood of ending well, and 
not such as are altogether desperate. For valour 
groimded upon rashness hath more madness than 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 403 

fortitude. And more, these lions come not to 
assail you; they are a present to his Majesty, and 
therefore ’t were not good to stay or hinder their 
journey.” 

“Pray get you gone, gentle sir,” quoth Don 
Quixote, “and deal with your tame partridge and 
your murdering ferret, and leave every man to 
his function; this is mine, and I am sufficient to 
know whether these lions come against me or 
no.” So, turning to the keeper, he cried, “By my 
beard! goodman slave, if you do not forthwith 
open the cage. I’ll nail you with my lance to 
your cart.” 

The carter, who had until now remained silent, 
perceiving the resolution of that armed vision, 
said to him, “Signior mine, will you be pleased 
in charity to let me unyoke my mules, and to put 
myself and them in safety, before the lions are 
unsheathed.^ For if they should kill my mules I 
am undone all the days of my life, for I have no 
other living but this cart and my mules.” 

“O thou wretch of little faith!” quoth Don 
Quixote, “Alight, and unyoke, and do what thou 
wilt, but thou shalt see that thou mightest have 
saved thy labour.” 

The carter alighted, and unyoked hastily. And 
the keeper cried out aloud, “Bear witness, my 
masters all, that I am forced against my will to 
open the cages and let loose the lions, and that I 


404 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


protest to this gentleman that all the harm and 
mischief that these beasts shall do light upon 
him; besides that he pay me my wages and due. 
Shift you, sirs, for yourselves, before I open the 
cage, for I am sure the lions will do me no hurt.” 

Again the gentleman in the green coat tried to 
persuade Don Quixote, but the knight said to 
him, “Sir, if you will not be a spectator of this 
which you think a tragedy, pray spur your flea- 
bitten horse, and put yourself in safety.” 

When Sancho heard this, with tears in his eyes, 
he besought his master to desist from that en- 
terprise, in comparison with which that of the 
windmills was cakebread, as was that fearful one 
of the sheep, or as were all the other exploits that 
ever he had done in his life. 

“Look ye, sir,” continued Sancho, “here’s no 
enchantment, nor any such thing; for I looked 
through the grates and chinks of the cages, and 
saw a claw of a true lion, by which claw I guess 
the lion is as big as a mountain.” 

“Thy fear, at least,” said Don Quixote, “will 
make him as big as half the world. Get thee out 
of the way, Sancho, and leave me. But — if I 
die — thou knowest our agreement: repair to 
Dulcinea, and that’s enough.” 

Then he of the green coat set spurs to his mare, 
and Sancho to his Dapple, and the carter to his 
mules, each of them striving to get as far from 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 405 

the cart as they could, before the lions should be 
unloosed. As Sancho rode off, with what speed 
he might, he bewailed his master’s loss, for he 
believed certainly that the lion would catch the 
knight in his paws. But for all his wailing and 
lamenting, he left not punching of Dapple to 
make him get far enough from the cart. 

The keeper, when he saw those that fled far 
enough off, began anew to urge Don Quixote to 
give up the mad enterprise. But the knight 
answered that the keeper should leave his urging, 
for all was needless, and that he should make 
haste. 

Whilst the keeper was opening the first cage, 
Don Quixote began to consider whether it were 
best to fight on foot or on horseback; and at last 
he determined it should be on foot, fearing that 
Rozinante would be afraid to look upon the lions. 
Thereupon he leaped from his horse, cast by his 
lance, buckled his shield to him, and unsheathed 
his sword. Fair and softly, with a marvellous 
courage and valiant heart, he marched toward 
the cart, recommending himself first to God and 
then to his lady Dulcinea. 

The keeper, seeing Don Quixote in this posture, 
and that he must needs let loose the male lion on 
pain of the bold knight’s indignation, set the 
first cage wide open. This lion was of an extra- 
ordinary bigness, fearful and ugly to see. 


406 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


When the cage was open the first thing the lion 
did was to tumble up and down the cage, stretch 
one paw, and rouse himself; forthwith he yawned 
and gently sneezed. Then with his tongue, some 
two handfuls long, he licked the dust out of his 
eyes, and washed his face. This done he thrust 
his head out of the cage and looked round about 
him with his eyes like fire-coals, a sight and 
gesture able to make bravery itself afraid. 

Don Quixote stood and beheld him, earnestly 
wishing that he would leap out of the cart that 
they might grapple, for he thought to slice the 
beast in pieces. But the generous lion, more 
courteous than arrogant, neglecting such childish- 
ness and bravadoes, after he had looked round 
about him, turned his back and showed his tail 
to Don Quixote. Then he very quietly lay down 
again in the cage. 

When Don Quixote saw this he commanded 
the keeper to give the lion two or three blows to 
make him come forth. 

“No, not I,” quoth the keeper, “for if I urge 
him I shall be the first he will tear in pieces. I 
pray you, sir knight, be content with your day’s 
work, which is as much as could in valour be 
done, and tempt not a second hazard. The lion’s 
door was open; he might have come out if he 
would. You have well shown the stoutness of 
your courage; no brave combatant is tied to more 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 407 

than to defy his enemy and to expect him in the 
field. And if his enemy come not the disgrace is 
his, and he that expected remains with the 
prize.” 

“True it is,” answered Don Quixote. “ Friend, 
shut the door, and give me a certificate, in the 
best form that you can, of what you have seen me 
do here: to wit, that you opened to the lion, I 
expected him, and he came not out. I expected 
him again, yet all would not do; he lay down. 
I could do no more. — Enchantments avaunt! 
God maintain right, and truth, and true chivalry! 
— Shut, as I bade you, whilst I make sign to 
them that are fled, that they may know this 
exploit from thy relation.” 

The keeper obeyed, and Don Quixote, putting 
his handkerchief on the point of his lance, began 
to call those that had fled, never so much as look- 
ing behind them, all in a troop. But Sancho saw 
the white cloth and said : — - 

“Hang me, if my master have not vanquished 
the wild beasts, since he calls us.” 

All of them stood still, and knew it was Don 
Quixote that made the sign. So, lessening their 
fear, by little and little they drew near him, till 
they could plainly hear that he called them. At 
length they returned to the cart, and Don 
Quixote said to the carter: — 

“Yoke your mules again, brother, and get you 


408 


THE JOLLY BOOK 


on your way. — And, Sancho, give him two 
pistolets in gold, for him and the lion-keeper, in 
recompense of their stay.” 

“With a very good will,” said Sancho. “But 
what’s become of the lions. ^ Are they alive or 
dead.?” 

Then the keeper fair and softly began to extoll 
as well as he could Don Quixote’s valour. He 
told how, at the sight of the knight, the lion, 
trembling, would not or durst not sally from the 
cage, although the door was open a pretty while. 
And he told how that because he had said to the 
knight that to provoke the lion was to tempt God, 
Don Quixote had suffered the door to be shut. 

“What think you of this, Sancho.?” quoth Don 
Quixote. “ Can enchantment now prevail against 
true valour? — Well may enchanters make me 
unfortunate; but ’tis impossible they should 
bereave me of my valour!” 

Sancho made no reply, but bestowed the gold 
pistolets. The carter yoked his mule, and the 
keeper took leave of Don Quixote, thanking him 
for his kindness, and promising him to relate his 
valorous exploit to the King himself when he 
came to court. 

“Well, if his Majesty chance to ask who it was 
that did it,” quoth Don Quixote, “tell him ‘the 
Knight of the Lions,’ for henceforward I will that 
my name be exchanged, and turned from that I 


DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA 409 

had of ‘the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance’; 
and in this I follow the ancient use of knights- 
errant that would change their names when they 
pleased or thought it convenient.” 

The cart went on its way, and Don Quixote, 
Sancho Panza, and he in the green held on theirs. 
They rode thus for some time in pleasant con- 
versation till the sun was low in the heavens. 
Then the gentleman said to Don Quixote: — 

“Let us haste, sir, for the day grows on us; let 
us go to my village and house, where you shall 
ease yourself of your former labour. For, though 
you laboured not bodily, yet you laboured men- 
tally, which doth often redound to the body’s 
weariness.” 

“I thank you for your kind offer, signior,” 
quoth Don Quixote; and, spurring on faster, about 
six of the clock they came to the village and to 
the house of the gentleman, whom Don Quixote 
styled ‘the Knight of the Green Cassock.’ Here 
they rested for several days until Don Quixote 
sallied forth to seek new adventures. 

These other adventures and more ye shall find 
in The History of the Valorous and Witty Knight- 
Errant Don Quixote of La Mancha. 

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. 


THE END 


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